


The Hills Call

by crimandclove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Historical, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimandclove/pseuds/crimandclove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago, Prince Derek of the Hale Empire had fallen for the son of a Baron, Genim of Stilinski. His mother had not approved, and after some time imprisoned Genim escaped to the Dukedom of the Shore, where he was taken in by Duke Christopher and Lady Allison. Now, Prince Derek is on his deathbed from a poisoning and it is up to Genim, now called Stiles, to nurse him back to health. Wary of the Hale Empire,  Stiles returns with their young son to see if he can heal Derek of his illness and escape the threats he still feels from the Empress herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Segment One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time in a while posting a fanfiction, and my first time in the Teen Wolf fandom, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make. I used to be over on lj as crimandclove. This story came to me because a friend of mine was having a lousy time and I wanted to cheer her up. I'm sorry if it's awful - I've never written A/B/O before either.

The story goes that Stiles was just another bastarded Omega – that an Alpha had impregnated him and then left him for dead. It was quite a pity – his son and he were quite kind, a good addition to their town. His son had never known his Alpha; Stiles had come to the village with a strange accent and a stranger habit of crying whenever anyone spoke to him. Eventually he had stopped the crying and dropped the accent. The people of the Shore all whispered to each other that Stiles used to have a Hills accent, sometimes sounded above his humble station as a healer. 

They were wary at first, allowing an outsider into their fold. The Shore was an independent dukedom and did not want trouble from the Hills, the seat of the Hale Empire. The Shore used to be the Argent Empire, before Duke Christopher’s father had lost it all to the Hales. Duke Christopher’s daughter Allison had saved the crying traveler, bringing him into her household and adopting his son into her family when he was born. Stiles had become integral to village life, being able to sooth the loudest baby or the most wounded soldier. Now the remains of the Argent Empire were content with their village on the shore, and their beloved Stiles. 

\----------

One day, a tiny woman with wild red hair and a thick accent came rushing into their village, the sigil of the Hills on her chest. “Where is Genim?” She demands seconds after removing her helmet.

Duke Christopher responded back with a sneer and spat in the sand. “We do not know one by that name. Hopefully it is no young princeling, wouldn’t want to be blamed for more than we already have done.” The woman’s face flashes with shame, as if he has hit a soft spot. “Your kind is not allowed in my city without proper identification, escort and you must leave by nightfall.” The stories also go that if you leave a person of the Hills in your village past nightfall, you will wake up without a village. 

“I need him. This is the only place that he could have gone –“ She sighs, frustrated, her hair curling around the triskelion on her chest. “He was my only friend, back before they kicked him out. The Empress Talia –“

“The Empress Talia has no say over any of our villagers, over any of my land.” Duke Christopher said haughtily. He had sent Allison to deal with the Empire just the year before, after the Princess Laura had finally married. He had Stiles stay with him that month, refusing to go with Allison outside of village grounds. He had also given her an arrow necklace ‘for good luck’.

“Lady Lydia, what brings you doing here?” His daughter interrupted, her hair half-unbraided from her morning ride. 

“You remember the story I told you about Empress Talia’s random act of cruelty against the poor boy who Prince Derek originally took before – “

“Yes I remember quite well.” Allison answered. “I am sure that man,” and her tone was harsh, her words more even then usual, Christopher noted, “is as far away as he could get. Perhaps he has crossed the ocean to Japan. That would be what I would do.”

“You know as well as I do –“

“I know nothing of this stranger you speak of. The people of The Shore do not accept strangers or criminals, as we agreed during our last meeting.” Allison scanned over Lady Lydia’s companions; all of them young but seasoned knights she had met during her visit – Sir Boyd, Sir Isaac, Sir Daniel. “I see you have brought the best of the Imperial Guard. I will not allow you to search for this – Genim. You may get some water, rest your horses, perhaps take a small midday meal and leave.”

“Milady –“ Sir Isaac began.

“That man died, I believe. That Genim. We haven’t had a stranger wander into town since before my son was born.”

“Your son? I heard you were unwed –“ Sir Isaac continued, a little shaken.

“I am. There are other ways to have a family.” She flashed her eyes, an angry red, at the group. Only Sir Daniel’s horse spooked. Allison hadn’t been sure of who had known of her Alpha status, but it was sure now that the secrets of the Shore weren’t as secure as she thought.

A cascade of blue answered her back, even the young Lady Lydia. “I am sorry for insulting your family. I realize I have not greeted you properly.” She dismounted her horse, brushed him over with a hand. She knelt to the ground – a sign of respect Allison had not seen since she had become simply Lady Allison. “If I may continue, Lady of the Shore.”

Allison paused, looking over the visitors. The rest of the Guard had dismounted after and they were all knee deep in the mix of hay, sand and mud from two days’ prior’s rain. “Matthew. Take their horses and see that they are well to ride back to the Hills. Today.” Matthew, her loyal albeit weird stable boy took the reins easily. He knew these horses from the year before when he had gone to the Hills in Stiles’ stead. “You may stand. And Lady Lydia, if we may make this more private, we are interrupting village life.”

\--------------

Allison lead them to the Mud House, a house attached to the healer’s that had originally been Stiles’ before Allison had brought him into her own household. It was a safe haven for her, a reminder of seeing a man so broken by his own people that she was reminded of how lucky she was to have just her father. Stiles was just a boy who had been forced to become a man too early by an Empire filled with hate.

She couldn’t tell Stiles’ scent here anymore. He had only been here for months almost five years ago, huddling in the corner with a holly bush for scent protection. Not like a group of Betas would sniff out an Omega, but this was the Imperial Guard. They were known to be different. Whoever had let a lone, pregnant person roam the forest was crazy. The fact Stiles was an abused Omega was a different story completely. She refused to let him be hurt again; he had given her someone to fight for, she had given him the life he told her he wanted the third night, shaking against the hydration his body now had. 

She took her seat at the window, a large seat with purple pillows. She smoothed her skirt, crossed her ankles, finished braiding her hair. She then looked up and nodded at her company to sit. If they were to come to her home rude and abrasive, she would treat them as if she was still a Princess, still equals with their wretched Princess Laura. “I would have my manservant bring us refreshments, but I’m afraid I do not want you speaking to anyone you haven’t seen before. This rash behavior is unacceptable on the Shore. Sir Boyd, if you would please call for Matthew.”

He nodded and did so. They sat in complete silence until Matthew came. “Matthew, if you would personally will go fetch the refreshments I’m sure the main house people have made and bring them back? None of the others will do; we don’t want them to be intimidated by strangers.”

Matthew glanced around the room; all of the knights knew him, and he knew them. He nodded and turned to go. “Your Highness – “

“My Lady.” Allison warned. It was fine in the day to day setting of the Shore for servants to mess up her title, but in front of company it looked almost treasonous. 

“What if Scott wishes to come?”

“Tell him I am still upset with his tantrum from yesterday and he may not come out to the Mud House today. If he corrects you and says that he still can, remind him that he is still restricted to the house and that his father will know if he leaves. And to his father, if he hasn’t heard, tell him we have visitors and that I wish for him to stay inside. Do I make myself clear?” Matthew had been the most elated to go with Lady Allison to the Hills, yet the most confused about why Stiles was not going nor was allowed to be mentioned.

“Yes milady.” Matthew ran for refreshments, slamming the door.

Allison paused. She scanned the room – the tension of her guests was as high as it had been when they came in. “So this Genim –“

“Give it up, Allison. I know he is here. You know he is here. Just because he is part of your household does not mean that you can defend him. Scott, changing his name to the name of his best friend from his village –“

Before Lady Lydia could finish her thought, a mud-covered four year old with dark hair and deep eyes burst into the room. “Mother!” The guests froze. The child did not, speeding over to Allison and climbing atop her. “Mother, I found you! Dada said I should not, but I did! I told you I am the best at hide and seek. I will be an mighty Alpha one day!”

“You just might.” Allison pinched his cheek. “But you really are not supposed to be here, my love. You’ll give your father a heart attack.”

“But I don’t know my –“

“You’ll give Dada a heart attack.” She scolded.

“Yes he did.” The voice carried and suddenly all of the visitors turned their attention to the young man in the doorway. Stiles, dark hair long and windswept, looked at the visitors with contempt. “Hello Lydia. Please leave.”

“Gen –“

Stiles stood tense. “Scott, come to me, darling.” Scott scampered over, seeing the dark look on his father’s face. Stiles picked him up with ease. “That person, with that name, died years ago. Died when Her Royal Highness Erica ascended to the throne. He was just a –“

“Stiles!” Allison scolded, pointing at Scott. “Scott, go back to the main house for now. Go see Grandfather, he is back from the hunt as well.”

Scott’s eyes lit up and he wiggled out of Stiles’ arms. “Grandfather!”

Once he was out of view, Stiles continued. “That Genim, he was just a country boy, a cur, a whore, used by His Royal Highness Derek and thrown away like the toy he was so his father could keep his land. Isn’t that the way the story goes, Lady Lydia?”

Lydia averted her eyes. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“I have no title, nor have I ever held one. Tell me why you were searching for the dead whore.”

“Genim – “  
“Tell me.” His voice deep and serious, the Lady Lydia sighed again.

However, it was Sir Boyd who spoke up. “Your Highness, we both know who let you out of the castle that night.” Stiles nodded at him; Boyd had been Derek’s closest friend during Stiles’ time at the castle, yet he had given Stiles the benefit of the doubt and had let him out the fateful night of the Prince’s Wedding. “His Royal Highness, the Prince, he is dying slowly. We have tried everything, but the last solution we have come up with is your touch.”

“My touch?” Stiles scoffed. “My touch? Are you saying that even the lowliest healer of the Shore is better than the high Deaton in the Hills?”

“Stiles, you know that isn’t what he is implying.” Allison scolded.

Stiles started to laugh. He started to laugh so hard he sat down, tears spilling over his cheeks. Soon, Lydia’s tears joined his, though hers in sadness. None of the group of knights had wanted Stiles gone; Empress Talia’s plans had failed even without Stiles’ escape. “When Genim of Stilinski left the Hale Empire, he shut himself off from all news of what has happened there. Births, deaths, weddings.” He paused. “You are saying that only the healing salve of a mate that was rejected by both its love and its ruler is what will keep your precious Prince alive? You all are too rich.”

‘Sir, it is all we have.” Sir Isaac pled, tears in his big eyes. Isaac had barely been a teenager while Stiles had seen him last; now he was a man big enough to fit into Stiles’ own shoes. “Things have changed –“

“But my feelings towards the Hales have not. Ruthless, cunning, loveless bastards of the moon.” Lydia gasped. “Do I offend?” Stiles waltzed into the room, bowing to Allison and then sitting at her feet. “My fine lady, do you wish me to partake on this quest?”

“It would be best for our relations if you did.”

“Would either party begrudge me a contract then? A contract for this … nasty business.”

“Not I.” Answered his lady.

“We will not either. We have been told to offer you whatever you want.” Affirmed Lady Lydia.

“Sir Daniel, if you will go into that desk next to you and get a pen and paper?” Daniel nodded, getting up and doing so. “If it alright, I can dictate? I know you were trained in this skill.” Daniel nodded again, leaning over the table. Daniel was nothing if not a wizard with words. “I, Stiles of the Shore, formally known as Genim of Stilinski –“

“That is not your proper title in Hale, Your Highness.” Lydia interrupted.

“It is the only name I held, Lady Lydia. Now if I may?” She nodded, looking at Daniel instead. “I request that I, the Lady Allison and the child known as Sir Scott of the Shore be allowed safe and fair passage to the Hale Empire and back to the land of the Shore. I request that only the Princess Cora, if she still lives, the healer Deaton and the Lady Lydia may speak to me while I reside in the Hale Castle. The servants may as well, but they cannot deliver messages from any other royal family member. Did the Prince ever move into the tower like he wished to?” He questioned the knights.

“Yessir, not long after your move.” Boyd had learned this lesson well – Stiles was not one to cross. 

“Well we will reside in the guest suites of that tower, since I know them so well. We will be treated as royalty, and as restitution for this work I request that my son, Sir Scott, never be claimed as anything but a citizen of the Shore in any book; that he will be granted 100 nobles a year and the title of my father when my father should pass if his namesake does not want it. I wish to give an unending pass to my father, the lady Melissa, and her son Scott to the land of Shore, and that whenever they wish to cross the border there will be no fees. If they should choose to stay here, all of their land, titles, and taxes will be paid and maintained by the crown. If anyone speaks to me that is not a servant about household works or the ladies in question, I will be granted the Grove, the rightful seat of the House of Argent and now Stilinski. Finally, I require that when I leave, if I have been harassed by any other nobility that I will be given every single one of the Arrows of Argent as a final payment. If I am greeted by Empress Talia in any way, I have the right to leave and let the Prince die.”

“Prince Derek?” Daniel clarified. “What? Prince Peter is in pretty bad shape as well.”

“Yes, I refuse to speak that name, but that one.” Stiles nodded. 

“Stiles, I don’t know if I can give you the Arrows of Argent … It’s asking a bit.” Lydia said, fingers headed near the undried ink.

“Then I am unsure if I can accompany you to the Hills. Have a lovely day.” He stood up, dusting himself off. 

As he turned to bow, Isaac sighed. “Lydia, you know the Princess did not send us here with any real restrictions –“

“As if the Empress will let those arrows leave?” Lydia cried. “She barely acknowledges the mistakes she’s made.”

Stiles observed Lydia – from her loose red locks to her triskelion crest. He grinned, walked over and tapped on it. “The Empress is never to speak to me, but if she could see me alive, here, I think she would know better than to underestimate me. To perform illegal magic, to undo legal documents without one party’s say, and to abandon her grandchild – well if the whole world knew about the evil she has caused by,” his voice changed, “’looking out for my son, he is so delicate and fragile’,” his voice dropped back to its usual timber, almost upbeat, “I wouldn’t know what I would do about our neighbors to the North. Even I know how thirsty they are for blood. Your …” he searched for a word, “your bird from the South should have fixed your problems. And now you call on me, your last resort. I will get what I am owed, Empress Talia, and you know I should easily ask for more.” A silence fell over the room. “That is what I thought.”

Matthew chose this time to reenter the room with his refreshments. “I’m sorry Your – My Lady, Harley just refused to give me the cold water, and I figured –“

“It is fine. We are just signing a contract and your signature is the third needed. I’m sure Sir Daniel doesn’t need to sign – only three from each territory, right?” Allison asked, walking over to the desk. “Put them down on the beverage cart in the corner, Matthew. Thank you.”

Matthew shakily slid his tray down and wiped his hands on his tunic. “Are you sure you don’t want me to grab the Duke, Your – My Lady?”

“No, you will be fine.” She smiled at him and his knees began to tremble. She laughed on the inside – she wished her visitors were like this. She offered him the pen. “After you have signed, go get a carriage ready for myself, Stiles and Scott. We have business in the Hills.”

“Would my lady like a dinner packed? You won’t reach the Hills until midnight if you leave after this meal.” Matthew questioned, carefully drawing the letters of his name. This may be his only mark in history, and he wanted people to read his name clearly.

“Yes sir. I have a feeling it is going to be a long night.” Allison sighed. She had hoped that her life wouldn’t be as exciting as it now seemed. 

\------

“But why are we going to the Hills right now? Why didn’t we just go last year when Mother went for that wedding?” Scott complained as he lay in between his parents. “It’s time to pick strawberries and Harley was gonna let me pick the good ones, I know she was.”

“We are going because you are almost five now, and last year you were not even four.”

“That is a lie, Dada.” He huffed. Scott was smart as a whip, Stiles mused, but coming from the gene pool in which he did, Stiles was more surprised he didn’t already know his lineage. 

Anyone from the Hills who took one look at Scott and had seen Stiles before his transformation into himself would know exactly who Scott’s other parent was. The people on the Shore either truly believed Scott could be of normal lineage or just liked Stiles and his medicines so much they did not care that they were harboring a fugitive.  
That’s what he was – a fugitive, a criminal, heading into the belly of the beast.

“Dada, are we going to meet my Father?” Well, Stiles had seen it coming. Hopefully none of Derek and Erica’s young brats would be underfoot during this grand meeting.

“Yes, Scott, and you get to meet Granddada and Uncle Scott afterwards!” Uncle Scott stories were little Scott’s favorite stories. Scott and Stiles falling off bridges. Scott and Stiles baking medicine cakes. Scott and Stiles – Scott and Stiles getting pulled apart by the Empress’ men, crying that it was unfair for the Prince to choose someone he had only seen in a stream. 

Scott’s eyes lit up. “UNCLE SCOTT?” He screamed in the way that only excited children do, almost sub-vocal in his pitch. 

“Yes, but there are some rules to this visit.” Allison said, petting little Scott’s head. “Firstly, this is a scary place. Beacon Hills is the capital of the Hale Empire. I know we let you get away with a lot, but not when we’re here, buddy. You may not and will not speak to anyone Mother and Dada don’t introduce you to first. If anyone asks, your Dada is your only father. You don’t speak unless spoken to. Here, you are a true prince.” 

Tears sprang to Stiles’ eyes. He has always been a prince, Stiles thought bitterly; some people just chose not to acknowledge it. 

“No tears, Dada.” Scott said, climbing into his lap. “I’m the prince, and I say that you and Mother and me are the best people, and we should always be smiling. Smiling for me and Granddada and Uncle Scott, and Grandmother Melissa, and Matthew, and Harley.” Scott yawned. “And everyone should be as happy as us.”

Stiles only hoped the visit was that easy.

\------

They entered under the pitch black darkness of midnight, their carriage steamy with heavier breathing from the higher elevation. The stage coachman opens the door for them and Stiles felt as if he is fifteen and naïve all over again. Hale Castle is the same way he left it – gorgeous but with an underlying current of cold. Scott high on one hip, he looked at the place and hoped he can remain detached.

Someone knelt in front of him and before he can call out, he sees the one gold hoop going through the dark man’s left ear. “Deaton.”

“Your Highness –“

“I wish everyone would stop calling me that. I was never a ‘highness’. And we were friends, were we not?”

Deaton’s eyes shined, as if he had seen a ghost. “We were, Stiles. We were.”

“You were the first person to call me that. Stiles.”

“The second, actually.” Deaton replied. 

“The first person who I will speak to. The other person – well, we did not part on the best of terms, and I am only doing this so that the truce between the Hales and the Argents stays where it is.” Stiles, reassured by Scott’s soft breaths on his neck, smiles.

“If that is how you see it. Much has changed.”

“And yet here I am, a young man, unwanted by his realm, with a child.”

Deaton’s eyes roam over Scott. “I was the happiest person when I told you of him.”

“And I am the happiest person for having him. He will be a great Baron Stilinski one day.”

Deaton sighs, “If that is how you see it. Now, I have heard from a bird that you have been studying healing, and if it is not too much to ask, could you go spend a few minutes with His Royal Highness before you retire?”

“I will. I hope with both myself and Scott here, he will heal whatever foolish thing he has done in double time and we may return home.”

Deaton smiled sadly at him. “I am glad to see you alive, my friend. You know the way.”

\------

It was weird to Stiles how everything had come full circle. Five years ago he had been hustled up to this top chamber after a small ceremony, hot words and hot deeds given and taken in equal measure. It was the dungeon of the opposite tower he had escaped from – a reason why he lived on the second floor of the keep on the Shore.  
The Prince looked terrible. A fever had hit, and while most Alphas would have been able to just breathe it out, it is obvious that he did not want to. Or perhaps he has been poisoned, Stiles thought to himself as he sat Scott down on the far edge of the bed, and because Erica is not available and he has always disliked Deaton, he thought he could heal himself. Same old stupid stuff, Stiles huffed.

A cough rang out and Stiles looked up into the eyes of His Royal Highness, the Duke of the Grove and the Forest, Prince Derek of Hale. “Stiles? Is that you? Have I come to Heaven or Hell, in which this dream comes back to me?” His words were cut off with a series of coughs.

“You only wished I was dead, Your Highness.”

Derek’s eyes flared wide, his stuffy nose attempting to inhale. “It cannot be…”

“It is. It is – what was the title your mother gave me again? It is the Whore of the Grove, and I am here to get you healed and hope that this will give me the peace I have needed for the last five years.”

Scott began to stir, and in his movements he turned and kicked Derek in the shin. Derek shifted, his powers muted by whatever had taken over him, and stared at Scott staring at him. 

“Scott, this is your father, the Prince. Your Highness, this is your son, Scott.”

Derek proceeded to pass out.

Stiles laughed until Scott woke up and demanded to be carried to bed.

This was going to be an eventful week.

\---

Allison could not sleep. Stiles had slipped into the ante-chamber to Prince Derek’s bedchamber hours ago and he and Scott had promptly fallen asleep on top of the covers. Allison could not sleep because every time she closed her eyes, she saw a shaken boy of fifteen sobbing in an abandoned mud room. She remembered the hard R’s that came with living further inland, the over-long hair that comes with being a prisoner in the Empire. 

_“I am a fugitive,” he had choked out that fateful third night in her homeland, “I am a fugitive from the crown. I can never go home. I am not wanted by anyone there. All I am is just – just – just a whore.”_

_“Not anymore.” Allison said, rubbing his shaggy head, “Not here, not anymore.”  
_

Of course Allison had letters smuggled from the Grove to Stiles, assuring Stiles that his father and pseudo-family didn’t see him as anything. She had never asked Stiles for more about his personal life, and she didn’t need to. Empress Talia had a way for being incredibly harsh on people that were not her own flesh and blood; it was a Hale trait. If Stiles was still a fugitive, she would not rest until they were back on the Shore.

\----

As he always had in the capital, Stiles woke up with the rooster’s cries early in the morning. His room had not changed much since the last time he had been in there. In fact, it looked like it had five years ago at his arrival to the castle, scared and brittle. 

He turned to see Allison at the door, eyes staring unblinkingly at the bed. She looked as if she had not slept during the night, and he figured maybe it was because he slept and had allowed Scott to spread all along the bed like a starfish. “Good morning.” He greeted, pushing Scott over to one side of the bed. “Has His Highness woken up yet?” She shook her head. “Well, do you wish to go to sleep or would you mind going and finding Deaton to update me on his condition? I would but the rules said I could only speak to a few people here.”

After a moment more of staring, she shrugged. “I have not heard His Highness, but I will go look for Deaton and call for breakfast. Scott will be starving.”

Stiles nodded; Scott was always the hungriest after traveling. Allison got up and shook the dust from the floor and the sleep from her body. She then opened the door and left to go find Deaton. Stiles took a deep breath in and then followed.

\----

Derek at almost twenty four looked very different from the Derek at nineteen that Stiles had knew. His usually tan skin was as pale as it could be, his cheeks sunken in, his hair long and unkept. The Derek he knew was always out in the sun, training or riding or swimming in the nearby lake. His hair was short and he always had some sort of style to it. This Derek’s hair hung limply around his face, a light sweat on his brow. 

Stiles looked around the room – it was obvious a servant had been in here as early as Stiles had and had laid out both a light breakfast, two bowls – one with steaming water and one with cool water – and washcloths. Stiles immediately went over and dipped a washcloth in the cool water. As he walked back over to Derek, he swore he saw one eye peek open and then shut again, but Derek’s breathing remained the same. 

Stiles sat on the edge of the bed and pushed Derek’s hair back from his forehead. He was still the most handsome man that Stiles had ever seen, sickly pale or not. As he began to wash the sweat from Derek’s forehead, he heard the door to the main chamber creak open, and soft footsteps approached the bed. “What is his condition, Deaton?” Stiles asked, not looking away in case Derek woke. This time he may not be as kind as he had been last night.

“He was poisoned by a courtier; the reasoning is fuzzy and there was no feud between them beforehand. The past five years have been rough for the royal family, after …” Deaton sighed, placing his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Just know your dismissal caused quite a stir in the court. It still is a sore subject for most people, but I know you dislike hearing about these sort of things.”

“It is not my place to have an opinion on the royal family’s actions. I am alive and well, that is all I could ask of.” Stiles breathed in. “Why hasn’t his body overcome the poison? When I last saw him he was strong and healthy, full of life. He would have thrown it out of his system as a bull bucks his rider.”

“Prince Derek has become a recluse as of … late. He tends to stay inside and pour over old books up in this musty tower. Alone. He has his duties, but afterwards he just heads inside. He cannot stand to be outside anymore.”

“But being outside is what keeps him alive. I have never met someone so passionate about the outdoors.”

“ A lot has changed, Your – Stiles. I need to administer the antidote; if you’ll turn your head.” Deaton knew of Stiles’ fear of needles and did not wish to have him passed out on the chamber floor with his son a room away.

Dutifully, Stiles turned his head, looking out the window instead as the sun came to sit in the sky. “What about Her Royal Highness? Where is she?”

“Princess Laura or Princess Cora? I am sure they are around the castle. The Prince began to stop responding to visitors last week.”

“No, his – his wife, the Princess Erica.” The name felt like bile in the back of his throat.

“His Royal Highness is not married, Stiles. Surely you know this. You may look back, it is over.” 

Stiles turned to Deaton, head tilted curiously. “No, I have avoided all news of the Hills once I came to live where I live.” Technically Stiles was still a fugitive from the crown; if he revealed where he lived to someone close to the family, he could be extradited. Not like Duke Christopher or even Allison would allow it, but the Hales had some powerful cards in their hands to offer.

“Do not worry, very few people know that you are here, and fewer know where you now reside. Stiles, you do know that he never,” Derek groaned, “well, he will tell you himself I suppose.” Deaton turned to leave.

“Wait!” Stiles screeched. “Allison isn’t back yet and I don’t know what his reaction will be this morning.”

“He surely will be happy to see you. Do not be impertinent.” Deaton snapped up his medical kit and turned to leave.

“Please. Please don’t leave until Allison gets back. I could not handle anything happening with Scott asleep next door – good or bad. I cannot be alone with him.” Derek had haunted his dreams and nightmares for so long, he did not want to be caught up in anything too serious.

“I see I cannot win this argument.” Deaton said as he took a piece of toast from the tray. “Stiles, if you should have to stay any longer than is planned, should I start working on a blocker for your heat?” Deaton knew Scott had been conceived somewhere around the end of the month, and if Stiles stayed longer than a week, his heat would come to him in this castle. Omegas were known for being regular and at the same time of the month.

“It will not be necessary; I haven’t had one since before Scott was born. The myth about an Omega being so traumatized that their heats stop? It is true.” To be honest Stiles had enjoyed it; he lived almost like a Beta on the Shore. No Alphas dared approach him there, and even then the lack of heat would throw any Alpha off his tail. 

“I again apologize for Empress Talia’s behavior. It was out of line.” Deaton said in between bites of his toast.

“It is not your place to apologize for her. Genim was the son of a lowly baron; he did not deserve royal treatment.” More things that he had repeated so many times that they were burned into his brain. “Stiles is just a healer who was taken in by a family who had the resources to help him. People can change if they have to.”

“They certainly can.”

Their solemn moment was interrupted by a groan from the Prince. “Time to wake up, Your Highness.” Stiles said, sweeping the hair off of Derek’s forehead. “It seems you have slept enough for the whole kingdom. Deaton, please open the window for me.”

As the sun peeked through the window, Derek’s eyes slowly opened. “Deaton, I told you, I don’t wish to see outside.”

“Well tough luck, Your Highness. Today is the day you get up.” Stiles retorted. “None of this lazing about. What has this world come to, the Prince laying abed all day?”

Derek’s eyes moved to Stiles. “I’m having a fever dream.”

Stiles snorted. “No, I thought we established last night that I am neither a dream nor a nightmare. It is time for you to eat.”

“Your voice is different.” Derek commented, sitting up.

“Well that tends to happen when you move. I never had the strong capital accent you have. Now stay sitting up; you are going to eat breakfast. And then perhaps you can stay awake for – Deaton, what is the longest he has stayed lucid and conscious?” Stiles asked as he got up for the plate.

“Fifteen minutes.” Deaton replied, his head turned the door. “I think young Scott is awake.”

“He probably smelled the bread. I swear, that child likes bread and butter more than a horse loves carrots.” Stiles snorted. “Make sure he does not go for the tray, please. This food is for someone who is sick, not someone who is growing. I asked Allison to call for a full breakfast.”

Deaton smirked, “You truly think of everything.”

“I run a household where I live, of course I think of everything. At home I have a checklist so that I am out the door with the morning hunt.” Stiles scoffed. 

Scott, with his abundant energy, pulled the door open at that exact moment. He was in yesterday’s clothes, his hair a wild tangle as it was apt to be when he had not taken a bath in two or more days. It was more reminiscent of Stiles’ bird nest than Derek’s limp mass that he was sporting. “Good morning Dada!” He screamed.

“Scott, not so loud. This is like at home, Dada is helping sick people.” Stiles scolded.

“Sorry!” He shouted. His hand went up over his mouth. “I mean, sorry.” He said in a whisper. “Is it time for breakfast yet?” He eyed the tray greedily.

“Your mother has gone for your breakfast. That food is for your father.”

Scott turned his smile to the Prince. “Good morning Father! I am sorry you are not feeling well. May I have a piece of your bread?” Derek stared at his child as if he had a second head.

“Scott, stop trying to deflect. You will wait for your mother. Tell me what you dreamed about.” Stiles pointed to the space next to Derek on the bed. Scott scampered up onto the bed, kicking Derek in the shin.

“Sorry Father. Well I dreamed that witch came and took me again. She was in a black gown and she had black hair and a golden crown and her face looked like it was a seagull mixed with a bear’s.” A knock came to the door. “I’ll get it!” Scott cried and jumped off the bed.

Stiles caught him mid-air. “No, you will not. We are strangers in a strange land and I am not letting you answer a door that is not your own. You know better.” He placed Scott back on the bed and went to the door himself. He opened it to find Allison with a maid behind her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Stiles. I see the little rascal is up.” She said, smiling at Scott. “Good morning, Scott.”

“Good morning, Mother! Dada said I could not answer the door because we are in a strange land. I told him it would just be you! And you brought breakfast too! See I told you, Dada. Didn’t I, Father?” Scott began to climb off the bed again, albeit a bit more carefully. 

“Yes.” Derek said, bewildered. This was the weirdest dream he had ever had. He never imagined the Lady Allison would have any interactions with his beloved Stiles.

“Your Highness, I am glad to see you are awake. I will retire to the ante-chamber to sleep. Wake me if things get bad. Your Highness, Deaton.” She curtsied and then headed towards the back room. 

“Goodbye, Mother! I love you!” Scott called after her, a piece of bread halfway in his mouth.

“Scott, make sure to eat some meat.” Stiles scolded. Scott went back to the new tray with equal gusto. Stiles had finally gotten the broth to the perfect temperature and went back over to the bed. “Now, Your Highness, it is time to eat.”

“Now this is a dream I’ve had before.” Derek said, eyeing the broth. “Except it wasn’t with broth.”

“Once again, more proof that is not a dream, but reality. Open up.” Derek stared at Stiles. Stiles stared right back. “Open your mouth.”

“This is an incredibly tawdry dream.” Derek commented, but by this point Stiles had stuck the spoon in his mouth.

“You have an incredibly untamed mind. Obviously we are in the land of living, though you seem to not want to be here. You know your system can kick this poison. Just eat your broth. If Scott wasn’t in the room …”

“If Scott wasn’t in the room?” Derek’s eyes flashed.

“My words would be much stronger. That is all. Stop flashing your eyes at me.”

“Dada, Father, watch, I can flash my eyes!” Scott flashed golden ones at his parents. His eyes would not fully change until he hit puberty but Stiles was sure he would be an Alpha. Hales didn’t produce anything else.

“Very good, my darling. Eat a piece of sausage please.” Stiles answered.

“Must I?” Stiles nodded his head. “Father, must I?” Scott begged, his eyes large as he turned to Derek. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and went back to trying to force-feed Derek, but in a strong voice Derek answered, “Yes, Scott, eat a piece of sausage for me.” Scott sighed and took a piece off of the plate. 

“Actually eat it, Scott.” Stiles said and Scott took a bite into the sausage. “You don’t have to act like he’s important. He’s four, he probably won’t remember anything about this trip anyway.”

“Trip?” Derek said, spoon in his mouth.

“Yes, Your Highness, a trip. Where you go from one place to the other. Normally a far distance.”

“Like how we came from home with Grandfather to here with Father! Even though Grandfather doesn’t like Father at all.”

“Your father didn’t like me that much.” Derek added around his spoon. 

“No, not Granddada, Grandfather. He’s tall, has a grey and white beard, deep voice? Can be mean but always gives me the good parts of the chicken during dinner. He’s Mother’s father.”

“And I am?” Derek questioned.

“Stop talking, Your Highness, we don’t know how long you’ll be awake for.”

“I feel fine, Your Highness.” Derek retorted back.

“I’m nobody’s prince, Your Highness.” Stiles said haughtily as he pulled the spoon out of Derek’s mouth. “There was another five letter word your mother liked to call me, if you remember correctly?” Stiles said, scraping the bottom of the bowl for the last of the broth. “But that is another thing we will not talk about in front of Scott.”

“You have grown a lot ruder than I remember you being.” Derek said as Stiles attempted to shove the last spoonful in his mouth.

“So now you will accept that is reality and not whatever you think it is?” Stiles said, putting the bowl to the side.

“You are really here?” Derek said.

“Are you feeling better?” Stiles countered. Derek didn’t seem to look any better, but Stiles couldn’t see a good half of his face.

“I’m feeling a lot better, thank you.” Derek went to pull back the covers, but Stiles slapped at him.

“Are you crazy? You have been abed for at least two weeks and now you think you can get up and waltz around and be perfectly fine? Certainly not. You will stay in bed, take a nap, close your eyes, let the sun warm your bed and your skin, and maybe when you get up to relieve yourself I’ll let you walk by yourself.”

Derek looked to where his hand was now resting against his chest. “I have been getting out of bed. I just don’t sit here all day.”

“Well then, Your Highness, tell me what day it is?”

Derek thought for a moment. Last time he remembered seeing the calendar was three days ago and it had been on Sunday. “It is Wednesday.”

“No it isn’t! It’s Sunday!” Scott shouted, his fingers in the butter bowl.

“Scott get your hands out of that and find a rag to clean them off with.” Scott sighed and put the bowl down, going for a towel. “Well, what month is it?”

“It is March.” Derek said, a little unsurely.

“Derek, it’s almost May.” Stiles said, sadly. Though he had nothing but disdain for this place, this castle, this family, he felt terrible in this very moment. Derek was so ill that he had lost months to this poison and Stiles was his only hope. 

“You have to be joking.” Derek breathed.

“Scott, what does the calendar say at home?” Stiles asked. 

“Well, yesterday was a Saturday, four days until the start of May, so it is a Sunday, three days until the start of May, the year of Our Lord 1499.” Scott recited. 

“That’s my boy. Your numbers truly are improving. Perhaps you can pick out what we do today – numbers or reading.” Scott preferred numbers because it took less time, but when he was in a mood to have Stiles read to him, nothing stopped him.

“If we read, can we stay out here with Father?” Scott asked, eyeing Derek. He seemed to be curious about his father, who kept staring at him like he was an apparition. 

“If your father would be okay with it.” Derek being read to. He loved reading, but he liked to do it by himself. He would read anywhere, just never with another voice.

“I would love it if you two sat in bed with me and read.” Derek answered. Stiles turned and looked Derek in the eyes – they were bright, brighter than they had been last night or even this morning. 

“We will read – not for too long, but just long enough for Mother to rest. Go find your storybook among your things and you can help me read to your father.” Under his breath, Stiles mumbled, “so help me God,” as Scott scrambled into the next room. 

“I heard that.” Derek said dismissively, then laughed. “I head that.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “You heard me mumbling a good ten feet away from you. Once you heard me mumbling from the other side of a field of strawberries, hearing me from the opposite end of a bed is no great feat.”

“You really are here. With me. And our son. You’re here to get me better. To help me recover.” Derek said like it was a prayer. He repeated it one last time, “You’re here.”

“Yes I am here. I am here to help you recover and then Scott and I are going back to where we came from.” Derek frowned and opened his mouth as if he was going to argue. “No arguments. It was in the contract I signed with Lydia. Be glad I came at all.” Knowing now what Derek had suffered, he did not regret his decision. “Now please move to one side or the other, Your Highness, so I may take a seat on your bed. Though it does look like the bedclothes need a little washing ..” Stiles mused as Derek scooted towards the main door. Stiles sat down gingerly on the opposite side.

“Stiles …” Derek started.

“Your Highness?” Stiles answered.

“I have missed you. More than you can imagine.” 

Stiles snorted. “I doubt that. You are just ill. Whatever magic is bonding the two of us together is making you feel better, Your Highness. Once you heal up you’ll go back to whatever you were doing after I left like nothing had changed.”

“Derek.” Derek said.

“That is your name, Your Highness.” Stiles answered as he waited for Scott to reenter the room, hoping he hadn’t awakened Allison.

“I know that,” Derek growled, “but you aren’t using it.”

“Perhaps you are coming back to yourself after all. Too quickly to be permanent, but you are.” Stiles mused as Scott reentered the room, bounding across the room and then jumping onto Stiles. 

“Dada, can we start from the beginning? I want to read about St. George.” Scott turned to look at Derek. “Dada, is Father contigrious?”

“Do you mean contagious?” Stiles asked, laughing. Scott enjoyed trying to use big words.

“Yes, that. Is he?” Scott asked, his hands squeezing each other.

“No he is not.”

“May I sit next to him then? Father, may I sit next to you?” Scott asked, his face turned to beam at Derek.

“Of course.” Derek answered and he scooted almost to the end of the bed, allowing Scott to slide in between him and Stiles. He was tiny but warm, his hand going to grab one of Derek’s off the top sheet.

“Have you heard the story of St. George, Father? It is my favorite. Dada does all the best voices.”

“I have not, Scott. I hope I like it.” Derek said, squeezing Scott’s hand. Scott squeezed back. 

Watching his son with a familiar fondness and an exhaustion in his bones he had not felt before, Stiles opened the book to the beginning and cleared his throat. “The Story of St. George and the Dragon …”

\---

Stiles felt calm. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t felt that way before, but it had been a long time.

He didn’t feel the need to rush out of bed to check on Scott or check on a patient. He felt content, relaxed. Scott’s snores were beginning to lull him back to sleep when he realized there was a second set of snores. He opened his eyes to find Derek halfway on top of him on his right side, Scott curled into his left. For a second, Stiles allowed himself to soak it in. If it hadn’t been for the Empress’ interference, this would be every morning. Well, the antechamber would be Scott’s, but he knew his child and this mostly would be every morning. Scott enjoyed physical contact with his father, which is normal for most children; Duke Christopher assured him that allowing Scott to cuddle up in the mornings wouldn’t stunt his growth. He had done the same with Allison when she was a child and then again after her mother had passed at fourteen. 

Stiles opened his eyes again. Allison. Stiles struggled to sit up. Even at Derek’s lightest he was still much heavier than Stiles, and was being unhelpful. Eventually he managed to push back against the pillows. They didn’t smell the best and Stiles resolved to have them cleaned before he left. 

Allison was sitting in the armchair across from the bed. “I was surprised to see you had fallen asleep, since you slept last night. Deaton was here and he said that you and Scott would most likely be exhausted, since you’re taking Derek’s pain.”

Stiles scoffed. “Omegas cannot do that.” He had tried. Many villagers and people who came to the city on the Shore for his healings. He had never been able to take pain from anyone. Sometimes, if it was really bad, Duke Christopher or Allison could pull it out. Otherwise they were stuck with natural painkillers and faith. 

“They can if they have a strong bond to someone.” Allison paused. A few seconds later, a knock came at the door. “There are visitors.”

“See who they are. I am going to try and wake Derek up, get him out of this bed. Can you ask the maid to bring fresh bedclothes?” Allison nodded and went for the door, slipping out so no one could have a view of the situation inside. Even if they had a child together, an unmated, unregistered couple in bed together looked bad. If an Alpha didn’t see it, they couldn’t be in outrage – smell didn’t count for everything. “Alright, Your Highness, time to wake up.” Stiles said, poking at Derek’s forehead. 

Derek groaned. “Five more minutes.”

“No, you need to get out of this bed. It smells bad to me and I am not the one who has been in it for almost two months. When was the last time your bedclothes were changed?” Derek groaned. “That is what I thought. Time to get up. You too, Scott. It’s almost time for lunch.”

Scott was simpler to get up. “Lunch!” He enthused, kicking Derek again, this time in the side, and rolled out of bed. “Dada, we took a nap and now it is time to eat!”

“Wash your hands in the basin, Scott. We don’t want to get sick today.” He didn’t trust the people in this castle not to have something up their sleeves. If they could keep Scott, they could break their agreement somehow. Stiles would be stuck in this castle with the people who hated him the most so they would have the chance to turn his son against him as they had Derek. His Highness, Stiles scolded himself. His Royal Highness. He was not allowed to use his Christian name anymore. “I’ll give you ten seconds and then I’ll allow Scott to climb on you, Your Highness. You won’t like that – he kicks very hard. One, two, three..” Derek began to move towards the side, “four, five, six,” Stiles continued as he climbed out the opposite side, “seven, eight,” Derek dumped himself on the floor. “There we go! Right as rain. Go sit in your armchair.”

“Earlier you said not to get out of bed, now you’re telling me to get in an armchair. Can you ever make up your mind?” Derek groaned, standing up. 

“You were going to get up anyway to relieve yourself at some point, I figured why not kill two birds with one stone.”

“I relieved myself when I woke up halfway through our nap. Then I came back. Thank you for staying, by the way. I was afraid it might make you uncomfortable.” Derek said, dropping down into the armchair. 

“I don’t remember falling asleep, to be honest with you. Allison said it is a part of the healing process. As long as you don’t think it improper, I don’t mind. Scott sleeps with me most nights anyways.” Stiles began to strip the bed.

“Are you not in a comfortable home?” Derek asked, eyebrow raised. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek’s thought pattern probably was, Scott was a prince, he couldn’t be in a small, lowly house, Stiles couldn’t sleep on the floor as the father of a prince. “Yes we live with Duke Christopher and Lady Allison. He wants for nothing.”

“And you?” Derek asked. 

“And I?” Stiles said, taking the bottom sheet off the bed.

“Do you want for anything?” Derek continued.

“I …” I do, he thought. Of course I do.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Lunch has arrived and both of the Princesses with it.” Called Allison from the doorway.

Stiles finished his stripping of the bed. “And the new bedclothes?”

“The maid is outside waiting to take the old ones from you. They’ll send the new ones up after lunch.” Allison continued. “And the Princesses?”

“Only one at a time, I don’t want to overwhelm him. Though he is looking better, I don’t want to leave him alone in case he falls ill again. And since I cannot leave, Cora may enter. Laura can come by after the evening meal if she wishes – I can decide then if he is well enough. And if she argues, she knows she is very high-energy and I don’t want him to feel drained by the end of the visit.” He knew Laura could hear him. 

Allison went to the door and opened it, admitting the maid first. She put her tray on a side table next to Derek, who immediately went for a piece of bread. “Thank you,” Stiles greeted. She curtsied low in the court fashion, then exited. 

“Her Royal Highness, the Princess Cora.” Allison announced. As she entered the room, Stiles dropped to one knee. When the delegation from the Northern Kingdom had come, he had relearned all of the proper courtesan procedures. 

“There is no need to bow to me, Genim. We are family.” Stiles looked up. 

Cora was no longer the awkward fifteen year old she had been, tomboyish and skinny. Her hair was styled in the proper fashion, a bit redder than he remembered. Her skin had cleared, her eyes framed by some sort of kohl.

“We are not, Your Highness. I am glad to see you are in good health.” Stiles said, getting up and turning to Derek, “Your Highness, eat something besides bread. You as well, Scott.” They both looked equally as guilty, shoving their pieces of bread into their mouths. “Meat, some carrots. Equal out your diet, don’t spoil your stomach. Your Highness,” he turned back to Cora, “please sit.”

“Genim, you may call me Cora again. It is ridiculous for you to prattle on with the formal titles. You are here, in the private chambers, with your family. You are acting like a foreigner.”

“I do quite feel like a foreigner. I will be one again after His Highness heals.”

“You are not staying?” Cora asked, spreading her skirts.

“Why would I stay? I am a fugitive. Besides, the provisions in my agreement allow me all of the things I wanted over these past five years.” Stiles said, pouring himself a cup of tea.

“Which were?” Cora continued.

“To see my father, stepmother, and Big Scott again. To be allowed to see the Grove again. To settle my debt to the Lady Allison and Duke Christopher by performing this deed. To see the Empire in good health. To see you and Deaton in good health. By the end of my last stay I had few friends and I have already seen Sir Boyd.”

“What about Sir Boyd?” Derek asked, food half-chewed in his mouth.

“Finish chewing before you speak.” Stiles said, nodding at Scott. “I cannot have him learning poor manners. He already climbs through the mud too often and then walks on freshly cleaned floors. I can’t have him spitting his food out to ask dumb questions.”

Derek swallowed. “What question was stupid?”

“De-Your Highness, you know who let me free that night. I did not magically escape from that tower, nor did someone take me from it.”

“I was told you fled.”

“Of course I did! I fled as a fugitive away from the crippling emotional torture of your mother! There is a reason most people consider me to be – to be unusual. Torture in any form affects a person.”

“She did not seriously harm you, did she?” Derek asked, looking bewildered.

“Your Highness, someone does not permanently fall out of heat because they were given nice talks and hot baths every night for a fortnight.” Stiles snorted. “I was in a dungeon, Your Highness. I was not treated kindly or fairly, and so when I saw a chance to escape, especially after finding out I was with child and that you were going to marry Her Royal Highness Princess Erica, I took it. Surely you do not think I left because I did not want to be around you.” Stiles looked at the Prince, who was staring at him intently.

“Stiles, you do know that Princess Erica ended up marrying Sir Boyd?” Cora asked, taking a sip of her tea.

Stiles laughed. “Sure, Princess, I’ll believe that.”

Cora sighed. “I know you have been conditioned to not believe the Hales, but the Kingdom in the South believes in love at first sight, in mate bonds. Princess Erica had been coming to speak to you when she ran into Sir Boyd, who had obviously been covering for your escape. Her parents do not believe in forced marriage, nor did they know about you. After the whole situation was explained, they acquiesced. Our family has been out of favor with the people since then.”

Stiles sat back. To think a country bumpkin could have this much effect on the court was mind boggling. “That is quite something.”

“What’s quite something?” Scott asked. He had managed to get the butter plate off of the tray and was now eating bits of it by itself.

“How things have changed here in Father’s home. Give the butter to me, Scott.” Scott groaned but got up and handed it to his father. “Say hello to your Aunt Cora.”

“Hello Aunt Cora!” Scott bowed, left knee to the floor in the style he saw people doing to his mother. “It is a pw-p-pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“How marvelous!” Cora exclaimed. “He looks like an exact mix of you and Derek. It truly is undeniable. How do you do, Scott?”

“I am well my fine lady. And yourself?” Scott replied, his words recited with a practiced air.

“I am well in both body and mind, thank you for asking. I am just dealing with a pushy mother. I am quite happy to see both of your fathers in good health.” She met Stiles’ eye. “Your father has been greatly missed.”

“He lives here, why is he missed?” Scott asked, looking at Stiles. “Do you mean my Dada?” He pointed at Stiles.

“Yes, your Dada.” A knock came at the door. Cora listened for a second. “It is the maid. Come in!” She called. The maid came and curtsied, carrying large amounts of bedclothes with her.

“Wonderful, the fresh bedclothes have come. Thank you so much …” Stiles asked, looking at the maid.

“Heather, Your Highness.” She squeaked.

“Heather, I am simply Stiles. Please leave the bedclothes on the bed, I will make it myself. However, may I ask you a favor?” The maid nodded. “Around halfway through the afternoon, can you send up two baths? One for a child and one with lavender in it.”

She nodded. “Yes milord.” She dropped the bedclothes on the bed carefully and then made her way towards the door.

“Heather? Where is the Lady Allison?” Stiles inquired.

“She and High Princess Laura were having an argument when Her Highness was not allowed admittance to the chamber. I can fetch her if you wish.”

“Could you? Tell her I would like for her to return and take Scott on a walk, preferably with Sir Boyd or Sir Daniel, if at all possible.”

“No need to call for me, I am already here.” Allison said from the doorway. “And I will, of course, Stiles. Obviously he has a lot of energy. Would you like to go on a walk, Scott?”

“Yes Mother!” Scott enthused, sliding out of Stiles’ grip and bowing to Cora. He then flung himself at Allison. “I want to see the gardens and stables and the courtyards…” Scott began to ramble as they walked out.

“And I too will take my leave. I know Laura will be on my last nerve if she is not able to visit on the same day I am allowed.” Stiles stood up and bowed low again. “So polite. I had forgotten that you had manners.”

“They’ve been reinforced living with such popular people like the Duke and Lady Allison. Hard to avoid the bowing and scraping when you’re their healer.”  
Cora laughed and took her leave.

It was just Stiles and the Prince. The Prince, who was staring at him as if he was a puzzle he could not solve once again. “May I help you?” Stiles asked, hands on hips. The Prince’s eyes met his. They were filled with confusion and hurt, as if he was processing new information. His skin was getting better looking to the eye and he was sitting up like a person in help. “I am going to remake the bed.”

“You could have let the maid do it.” Derek sighed as Stiles plucked the pillow coverings up and started to replace the pillows.

“I don’t want you overwhelmed.” Stiles said, placing a remade pillow on a side chair. “You may be feeling better, but you never know what illnesses some people carry.”

“I can smell most of them, in case you had forgotten. I am an Alpha. And if I had not smelled it, Scott or Cora would have. The maid is a Beta, and though they are prone to illness, the ones in the castle tend to be extraordinarily healthy.”

Stiles sighed. “You can smell a lot of things, yet you got yourself poisoned and almost killed. Maybe you need to rely on help instead of on yourself.”

“Sometimes I feel like I am the only one looking out for me anymore.” Derek sighed, looking out the window. “Boyd has become the equivalent of a side prince, Isaac is studying to take his father’s place on my family’s council once my mother steps down or passes away. Lydia is too busy with learning and traveling and being to ask for things. Daniel gets ill quickly due to his questioning nature and cannot be around people for long without getting a shortness of breath and having to lie down.”

“You could always marry, Your Highness.” Stiles said as he began to smooth down the blankets.

“I am married.”

Stiles looked over his shoulder. Derek was leaned forward in his chair, staring at Stiles. “Are you talking about our wedding vows?” Derek nodded. “In case you had forgotten, your mother broke those. Legally. You cannot fix something like that. You would have to get remarried and I certainly did not.”

“Because you hate me.” Derek said, looking back towards the window.

“Because I had not seen you in almost five years. I am uncomfortable in the place where you live and you cannot leave. The crown passes to Laura but you are second in line. You have to live, Derek.” Stiles said, sitting on the made bed. Derek looked upset. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“And I you.” Derek replied. “I have just –“

“Time to get back into bed now.” Stiles interrupted. He did not want to hear about how Derek wished things were different. Stiles’ heart was already breaking thinking of Derek, well and alone and watching his friends and family live their lives, Stiles and Scott a country away, without him. This is why Stiles hadn’t wanted to see Derek again. Some part of him yearned for a family. “After your midday bath we shall see how you feel. Perhaps we will even cut your hair.” 

Derek snorted and got up from his chair, walking to his bed and sinking down into it, not moving the top covers.

“Come on, Your Highness, just slide under the covers.” Derek turned and faced the wall. “Your Highness.” Stiles bit out. Derek remained still. “Derek, please.” Derek flipped over quickly.

“Said it again.”

“Please?”

“My name.”

“Derek, please get under the blankets.” Stiles said, a curve to his mouth.

“I will if you will stay again.” Derek said, already reaching for the covers.

“Let me grab my writing supplies. I have things to do that coming here has interrupted.” Stiles said, getting off the bed and heading to the antechamber. 

When he returned with his writing supplies, Derek was sitting up in bed with the story book on his lap, the other side of the bed’s covers pulled down. “You are something else, Your Highness.” Derek flashed his eyes. “Fine, you are something else, Derek?” Stiles said.

“Better.” Derek said, smoothing the spot next to him down.

“We are lucky that the door is closed. Otherwise this would be seen as highly improper.” Stiles said, climbing in next to Derek. After he had adjusted, he picked up his pen, only to feel an arm wrap around his shoulder. “Highly improper.” Derek snorted in his ear. Stiles sighed and began to write his letter. _Dear Father,_

_\---_

_Stiles could feel the midday sun upon his back as he picked strawberries. This was his punishment for distracting his father and Baron Yukimura while Scott asked Kira to be his partner for the dances on Beltane. As an Omega Stiles could have no partner for the Beltane dances without being scandalous or engaged, and he certainly was neither. He couldn’t even think of being scandalous. His father’s reputation had already been tampered with due to his outspoken nature and his flat out rejection of every Alpha that had come sniffing around. Stiles felt as if he was meant for someone else, someone he had not met yet._

_This left him picking strawberry fields so his Beta friends could have their summer romances. “Stupid traditions, stupid Beltane, stupid Scott.” At this rate Stiles would deny partners until his heats were so bad that his body would choose or he would be sent to the nuthouse for having a dysfunctional body. Sometimes he wished he was a Beta, unable to have children or worry about attaching to the wrong person._

_A horse neighed behind him. “I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times today, Greenberg, I cannot help you with your half of the picking. My father merely found it funny to send me out here, I do have other things to attend to.”_

_A soft, deep voice that was definitely not Greenberg answered him. “Do you always speak to others this way?”_

_Stiles turned to see the most handsome man he had ever set eyes on. He sat proud and tall in his saddle, dressed in the purples of the royal family. “Yes I do …” Stiles trailed off, looking up through his lashes._

_“Derek. Derek of Hale.”_

_Stiles immediately dropped to one knee. “Sorry, Your Highness, I have never laid eyes on you. If I had known it was you and not Greenberg I would have not been so impertinent. My father thinks it is best that I am familiar with my subjects.”_

_“Your father?” The Prince asked from his saddle._

_“I am Genim of Stilinski, son of Baron John.” Stiles said from his kneeling position._

_“Look at me. Please.” Derek asked, and when they made eye contact, Stiles felt it. A pull. “I – I only came to speak to your father about –“ He said, frowning at Stiles. “About something. Do you feel it?” Derek said, looking at Stiles._

_“I do.” Stiles said from his place of the ground._

_Derek smiled and then dismounted. “I am so glad to have made your acquaintance then.” Walking over to Stiles, he offered a hand. Stiles bared his neck in acknowledgement. “No, shake my hand.” Stiles pushed off from the ground and did so, shaking the hand of the Crown Prince. A current came through his hand. Mate Stiles’ brain thought. This is what Father described. I have found him. A smile stretched over Stiles’ face. Derek’s mimicked._

__\---

Stiles woke up from his dream sweaty and disoriented. It was often that he dreamed of the past. Rarely did he dream of the day he and Derek had met. Often it was of the day they were torn apart, or the night of their consummation on that year’s Beltane. He had thought in their brief days together that their story would be one for the storybooks – almost too perfect. And it had been.

Stiles was astride Derek’s chest this time, his nose at the collar. It was not unusual for an Omega to smell an Alpha when they slept and Stiles supposed it was why he had such a light dream. He pushed himself up and then out of the grasp of Derek’s fingers and looked outside. It had to be almost mid-afternoon. Stiles hadn’t slept this much since after Scott had come into the world. It must be from the healing. He heard Scott and Allison giggling in the next room. 

Stiles sighed. For a moment he could imagine his life again, here, Allison just a diplomatic friend, here for a weekend, a second child taken away with its nursemaid while Stiles and Derek napped. 

A knock came at the door. “Who is it?”

“Heather, Your Highness.”  
Back to reality. “Come in, Heather.”

Heather entered, dropping to the floor in a curtsy. “Your baths are ready, Your Highness. They await you in the bathing chamber.”

Stiles nodded. “Thank you, Heather.” Derek groaned. “Is there a razor in there as well?” She nodded frantically. “Wonderful. You may take your leave.” She curtsied again and exited, her skirts flying behind her. 

“Your Highness, it is time to get up.” Derek groaned again. “Your Highness, get up or I will let Scott kick you in the kidney.”

“I’m up, I’m up.” Obviously Scott’s kicks were a good motivator. Derek had dragged himself up against the pillows, his nightshirt almost indecently low on his chest. A bit of chest hair showed. Stiles shivered involuntarily. “What?”

“It is bath time. And since you assured me you could get up and down yourself, head towards the bath chamber while I gather Scott.”

“I might need some help.” Derek admitted, wiggling his toes under the mattress.

“Oh, you might?” Stiles asked, one eyebrow perched high. Derek looked away. “Let me at least get Scott to start undressing. At one point in his life he used to detest clothes. Now any time I tell him to take his old clothes off it is like they are his most valued possessions. Scott!” Stiles called “It’s bath time.” The giggles stopped.

Scott burst into the room. “But Dada, I’m not even that dirty! I took off my boots when we came back in.” He claimed. Stiles could see mud in his hair and streaked across his forehead. 

“Scott, no arguing. Bath time.” Stiles stated, firm.

Scott began to sob. Stiles immediately went to pick him up. Scott clung like a limpet. “But Dada, I cannot take a bath. I can’t defeat the witch if she comes back if I’m in the bath. I saw her today.”

“Scott, you know the witch is not a real person.”

Scott sobbed harder. “She is, she is, I saw her and she saw me and I screamed really loudly and then Mother picked me up and brought me back here and then we played card games.”

“He screamed at the Empress.” Allison said from the doorway. “She rounded a corner in one of the gardens and he just began to wail as if he was dying. She looked at him and recognized him and began to walk over but he called her a ‘witch’ until I could get him up here.”

Derek chortled. Everyone turned. “It is an accurate description of my mother. She is magic with words and treaties.”

“No. Witches are bad, Father.” Scott screamed, his tears still flowing heavily. “The witch separated you and Dada with her evil magic.”

Derek startled in his bed, pushing the covers away. “What?”

“Scott, you can tell your Father the whole story as both of you take your baths. You will not be alone in the bath and Mother and I can protect you from the witch if she returns. Is that okay?” Scott nodded. “You have to let go of me, Scott. Father needs help walking because he’s still a little sick, alright? He has to lean on me.”

“Can I hold Father’s other hand then?” Scott turned to Derek. “Can I, Father?”

“Of course, Scott. Of course.” Derek said, his feet hitting the ground. Scott scampered down and went to Derek’s left. Stiles walked over and offered his arm. Derek clamped on and pushed himself off. A heavy cough went through his chest.

“That cough sounds quite nasty.” Stiles said.

“I had it more in the beginning. I’ll cough of some of the poison, hopefully.” Derek said, hand squeezing Stiles’ bicep.

Two grand copper tubs had been set in front of the fire. Normally Stiles was anti-fire this late into spring, but the hot water would sooth the ills of Derek’s chest and make the mud easier to get off Scott. Once they had reached the tubs, Stiles set Derek’s hand on the side of the taller tub and turned to Scott. “Time to take your nasty clothes off. Put them in a neat pile by the small tub.” 

It took Scott a second, staring at Derek, and then he let go and did as he had been told. Stiles turned back to Derek. “Can you undress yourself Your Highness, or should I?”

“I can get the top off and if I loosen my breeches, will you help me? Please?” Derek asked, his hands trembling near his shirt laces.

Stiles turned a bright pink. Derek may have lost some of his muscle in this illness but Stiles doubted that he had lost the main one. Stiles had seen many men naked since his time in the palace, but none had been as appealing as Derek was. It was exciting in a while Stiles hadn’t felt outside of dreams in years.

“Stiles, love? Is that alright?” Derek asked, shirt mostly off, and Stiles snapped back to it.

“Yes, of course.” Stiles dropped to his knees, eyes on the floor. Keep your eyes on the floor until he is in the tub, Stiles, he told himself. It will be fine if you do not look up. As he heard the laces being undone, he began to pull on the bottom of the left pant leg.

“No need to rush. I am afraid if you pull them too hard, they will disintegrate.” Derek laughed. Stiles kept his eyes to the ground. 

“Father, what does disintegrate mean?” Scott asked as Stiles pulled gently on the leg.

“It means to disappear. Like smoke in the air.” Derek added. Scott was always one to want to learn new words. 

Stiles turned his head sideways to see Scott standing naked next to the tub. “Scott, get in the bathtub.”

Scott shook his head. “You said I was going to take a bath with Father. He has to get in first like you do, Dada! Otherwise he’d smush me.”

Stiles sighed. He knew after Scott’s outburst he could not scold the boy into getting into the separate tub. If Scott wanted to bathe with Derek, then he would. The tub was certainly big enough for two, if not three people. “Well while you wait, take a cloth and some soap and some water and scrub your face. You have dirt all over you.” Stiles then turned back to helping Derek. The left leg had fallen to knee when the right leg had gone down and Stiles sighed in relief. “I hope you don’t mind, Your Highness. Scott seems to want to tell you his story up close and personal and I cannot deny him that much. Perhaps you think I’m soft, but he is a very sensitive boy.”

A hand came to cup Stiles’ cheek. “You are not soft.” Stiles looked up and instead of looking at what his eyes wanted to he met Derek’s eyes, clear and kind. He had forgotten over the time apart of what Derek’s eyes truly looked like. It was enchanting. “And it is fine. Scott can tell me the story of the Evil Witch as we bathe.”

Stiles sat back on his heels. “It is his favorite.” Stiles sighed, forcing his eyes to stay in the vicinity of Derek’s chest.

“Father I want to be in warm water! It’s bath time!” Scott cried from the other side of the tub, splashing both of his fathers with warm water. 

Derek stepped easily into the tub, sitting down and sighing with pleasure. “I forgot what a bath felt like.” His eyes fell shut.

“You probably have forgotten what clean feels like too. Scott, get in the bath softly. Bring your cloth and soap as well.” Scott dropped the soap and cloth in the tub and then got in quickly and soundlessly. He looked at Stiles. “Good job. Now you may swim over to this side of the tub. Keep still while I scrub you. You can tell your father the story.”

Scott swam over quickly and sat on Derek’s lap, right where Stiles’ eyes had wanted to dart. Better that they didn’t, Stiles thought. He cleared his throat. “Once upon a time, there lived a son of a baron. He was not smarter or faster or more handsome than anyone in the barony, but he lived a good life. One day a handsome prince came and stole his heart and him away from where he lived. That’s you and Dada, Father.” Scott cleared up. Stiles rolled his eyes as he began to scrub Scott’s back, which also had mud on it. “So they came back to the castle and it was like a fairytale. They were married at midnight on the eve of Beltane, their luck promised by the moon herself. Ah, Dada, that tickles,” Scott cried as Stiles washed his side.

“Then you shouldn’t have crawled through the mud, Scott.” Stiles said as he began to work on Scott’s chest. 

Scott pouted. “Anyway, they stayed abed in a tall tower for days, learning everything about one another.” 

Derek coughed. “What did they learn about each other, Scott?” 

Stiles turned and rolled his eyes at Derek as Scott continued. “They learned each other’s favorite colors and their favorite constellations in the night sky.” Derek had loved calling Stiles’ moles his personal stars. “A week later, a witch came to their tower and knocked on the door. Thinking that the lowly baron’s son was just a servant who her son had picked to be friends with him, she ignored him. When the handsome prince explained his actions, the witch screamed and ordered the baron’s son to leave them alone. The baron’s son spent three days in the antechamber of the tower, waiting for news of his fate.”

“Time to dip your hair in the water, Scott.” Stiles said, poking his son in the stomach. 

“But Dada, I was getting to the good part.” Scott cried. 

“Well then tilt your head back so that we can have this over quickly and you can continue.” Scott grumbled but complied. Stiles dipped Scott’s head back once, quickly scrubbed his hair with soap, then dipped his child back in again. After the second dip he ran his hand through his son’s hair. “All clean. Continue.” Stiles went to the head of the tub so he was looking at the back of Derek’s head. The version of the story that Scott had got wasn’t necessarily the version Derek knew, and he did not want to see Derek’s face when he heard the romanticized child’s version. He began to scrub Derek’s shoulders. The lavender in the water already had his shoulders stooped low, so the touch made the relaxation complete.

“Anyway, before I was interrupted,” Scott said, doing his best impression of Duke Christopher. Both Derek and Stiles chucked. “I was saying that the baron’s son was hidden in his room for days, waiting for news of his fate. Soon the evil witch came in with her guards and had them pick him up and carry him down to the dungeon of the opposite tower, far from his love.” Stiles rolled his eyes as he worked on Derek’s chest. He could feel the dead skin give way to his hands.

“The evil witch told him of her spell over his love, and how three weeks from that very day his love would marry another. The baron’s son was nothing but a wordsmith, hoping to keep a prince for himself. He didn’t love the Prince, the witch said, and because the witch was the Prince’s Alpha, the Prince had to do as was commanded. She had gone to the magistrate that had married them and burned their certificate, therefore annulling their wedding. The baron’s son would never see the Prince again. It burned the baron’s son, knowing that his love would love someone else, have children with someone else, be without his self.”

“His self? The words are ‘to be without the baron’s son.” Stiles corrected, going for the razor. He could get some of the fur off of Derek’s face since he was sitting as still as a statue. Stiles dipped the razor in the water and went for the soap. 

“Fine Dada. The Prince would be without the baron’s son, forever and ever. He felt heartache in the pit of his stomach. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, just cried for his love for days on end.” Stiles did eat a piece of bread or two, okay? He wasn’t that pathetic.

Well, he was then. Now, he was a different person. “Move your face, Your Highness.”

“Derek.” The Prince reminded him. “Please stop calling me Your Highness.” His voice was unusually high. Must be all the coughing from earlier.

“Move your head then , Derek. Please.” Stiles was trying to drill manners into Scott. Please was everything. Derek shifted himself and Scott sideways in the tub. Stiles ran his hand over the Hale sigil tattoo high on Derek’s back to steady himself, marking him as an Alpha of the Hale line. “Continue, Scott.”

Scott tapped his chin. “Where was I?”

“He wouldn’t eat …” Derek prompted.

“Right! He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, just cried for his love for days on end.” Scott had it memorized, Stiles had caught him reading the version Stiles had written down a couple of times, hoping to learn his words faster if he saw the much cherished words on paper. “A week into his imprisonment, the witch came back. She told the baron’s son to stop weeping, that he was lucky to even be alive. As the son got up to beg for release, she knocked him heavily into a sharp wooden table, injuring his side. She laughed at the poor son and left him there. ‘Better you die in here’, she said as she left, ‘then face the outside world a criminal.’

The wound hurt for several days and the guards began to have pity on the poor prisoner. After a week of weeping and bloodletting from his wound, a kind guard called the royal physician. The physician was on the side of the lovers, and he told the prisoner that he believed their story. Believed in true mates and that the witch had gone above her place. It was that day that the physician told the baron’s son of the baby that lived inside of him.” Stiles put the razor down, happy with his work, and moved his body to begin scrubbing the Prince’s back.

Suddenly Derek’s hands grabbed Stiles’ wrists and brought them to rest on Derek’s belly. Derek’s grip was bruising, as if the story had enraptured him so much that he was nervous about the ending. Derek knew the ending. He had been there when it happened. Stiles let the folly continue, however, because Derek's back was warm and inviting.

Scott saw no change, he was so caught up in his retelling. “For a minute the baron’s son thought about asking the physician for nightshade. He could not have his child taken from him, given to some other person to raise as if the baron’s son had not existed. But it was only for a moment. The baron’s son was no coward. He saw this child as a blessing from God. A way of telling him though he could not be with his beloved, he would have a piece of him always in their child. And one day, when this life had ended, all three of them would know each other in Heaven.

The baron’s son begged the physician to not tell the Prince or the evil witch. He couldn’t bear the disgust of the evil witch when she came to tell him to give up the child or that she was to have them killed, or the chance that the Prince would finally face the baron’s son and take their child from him with his own two hands. So he began to plan.  
Two days before the marriage of his love, the Prince’s sister came to visit. Though the baron’s son had banned the physician from telling the witch or his love, when the Princess had come to speak with the physician about the young boy, he had bestowed the truth upon her. She had never found the baron’s son guilty of anything besides loving her brother, and when she visited she told the baron’s son of her own plan. 

Right before the wedding, a guard would open the gate to the dungeon and let the baron’s son go. There would be a pack with food and a horse waiting for him. No one would notice, they would all be too busy preparing for the wedding or watching over the food. After he escaped he would race as fast as he could for the dukedom by the sea, the only place he could be safe of the witch’s wrath. There he and child could live a safe life. But, she warned him, he would have to change his name and give up the name of his own father’s, for the protection of his own child. So the baron’s son took the nickname his love had bestowed upon him, ‘Stiles’ and when the kind guard, a friend of the Prince’s, set him free, he raced to the land by the Shore and never looked back. There he met a kind woman who allowed him into her family and helped her with their child. And every night, the baron’s son, Stiles, prayed that one day he would see his father and his family again, and that when he died they would all end up happily together in Heaven. Amen.” Scott sat back, pleased with himself. 

The water had begun to turn cold in the tub but Derek kept Stiles wrapped around his back like a child riding on their first horse. Stiles could almost sense the agony pouring off of the Prince and he felt a little remorse for letting Scott tell his story. Stiles had begun spinning it one night to explain to an almost-three year old Scott how Allison was not his real mother, and it had become the most requested bedtime story Stiles had in his repertoire. 

“What was the lesson you learned from that story, Scott?” Allison asked from the doorway. Derek startled, his hands on the edge of the tub as if to attack. Stiles rubbed his stomach, his wrists aching from the hard contact. 

“Do not abuse the Alpha power you have. Most people are Betas and do not have the influence you and Grandfather and Father were given. I have to believe in people, otherwise I’ll turn into a crazy witch and hurt everybody!” Scott said.

“Good.” Allison smiled. “Come to me, Scott, we can get you some new clothes and then we can finish our game.” Scott’s eyes lit up and he hopped out of the tub and raced over to his mother, naked as the day he was born. “This reminds me of the time someone was trying to escape being painted by the Royal painter and ran through the house without his clothes.” Allison chided. She shut the door as Scott began to respond. 

Derek continued listening to them for a few more seconds, then turned back. “Did my mother actually injure you?”

Stiles sighed and pulled his hands away. He sat back on his heels. “It wasn’t too terrible, but I could not get it to heal myself. I wanted to die, believe it or not.” Stiles said softly, looking at his hands. “Boyd was always kind and noticed how I couldn’t sleep the night through or at all during the day, instead spending time in the far corner, afraid someone would come in to kill me.” The only comfort Stiles had was a small stuffed fox made out of wool that Isaac had taken back from Derek’s bedchamber. His mother had made it for him. It lived inside of Stiles’ medical bag now. “If I had wanted it to heal, I would have been better in that week.”

“Do you still have the scar?” Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded. Derek went for Stiles’ shirt but Stiles threw himself back. “Derek, it was years ago. There is no need to get upset. If she hadn’t knocked me over, Scott and I most likely would have died. She wanted me in full health when she had me executed.” Stiles had nightmares about those words to this day. “She didn’t want it to be public, too much what I wanted, she said. It would just me and her and Isaac and Boyd. Maybe Lydia if she felt that Lydia needed a reminder of her station as your sister’s Chief Lady-In-Waiting. I would die for my crimes of lasciviousness and insolence. Your closest friend, he saved me, knowing getting Deaton and Cora involved would delay my time. I was sure the Empress was going to walk in anytime that day and have me executed right in front of the wedding guests. I was lucky I escaped, that Deaton kept his word about not telling anyone of Scott.”

“Things would have been different if you had said something. Alphas –“

“Alphas always keep their first children. Even if they dislike their first child, they keep them. I would have never been permitted to stay. I couldn’t see anyone else raising my baby, Derek.” Stiles stood up. “I have seen that I have upset you. I am sorry. I suppose it is time for you to retire to your chamber. It is almost time for the evening meal and your sister will be swinging by. We must have you dressed and ready to go. You look better shaved.” Stiles noted.

“Will you not be there with me?” Derek asked as he stood. Stiles reached for the housecoat sitting on a nearby chair, one with cloths and another bar of soap. Stiles turned it so it blocked most of Derek’s form and so the Prince could step into it. 

“I have a contract. Laura was never a fan of me and I made it so if she spoke to me while I was in the castle, the Arrows of Argent would come back with Allison and I.” 

Derek sighed. The Arrows of Argent were sacred to the house of Argent and returning them meant that the Argents were free of Hale scrutiny. That was what the contract that Allison had negotiated last year said, but the return of the Arrows would seal the deal. “So you can only speak to whom in the castle?”

“Lydia, Cora, Deaton and you. That is it. Of course the household servants do not count but if anyone else of lineage spoke to me, a lot of things would change.”

Derek stepped into the housecoat. “And this is because?”

“It is because I could not lose both you and my son to the Empire.” Stiles stated. His hands shook. “And the Empire cannot deal with a lone dukedom up in arms over the loss of a son of a lady and of me. I am more important in the dukedom than I ever was in the castle.”

“You meant a lot to me. You were important to me.” Derek turned to look at Stiles but Stiles would not meet his eyes.

“Let us not discuss the past anymore, Derek. Let us look to the future. Mine shows me being able to sleep a full night with Scott so tired that he doesn’t kick me in the ribs.” Stiles offered his arm. “Do you need me?” He nodded at the door.

Derek sighed. “Always.”


	2. A Storm Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being denied entry once, the Princess Laura demands to see her brother. Sparks fly and Stiles begins to see the turmoil that surrounds the family he was shunned from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter than the last chapter, but I wanted to get it up because otherwise I would just sit here staring at it. I'm not happy with the ending but what can you do.

Time passed quickly as Stiles began to redress Derek. After their heartbreaking story time, Stiles just wanted to have him dressed and leave. Allison could wait for Laura with him and then watch the two of them. Derek seemed troubled but that was a good sign. If he was thinking about something, it meant that he could concentrate. “Are you troubled, sir?” Stiles asked as he dragged Derek’s feet through the holes of his tight pants. They were woven cotton though, so Stiles knew his skin could breathe.

“Have you ever thought you knew everything about a situation, then it was turned on its head?” Derek asked. He stood up when Stiles tapped his knee to get him to pull up his own pants. 

Stiles finally caught an eyeful of the muscle he had wanted to see. Arousal bubbled at the pit of his stomach. Now was not the time for his body to start responding normally, around a sad man and in front of his child. “I do know that feeling. I feel as if your world has been terribly rocked today.”

Derek pulled his pants up, unaware of the eyes lingering as he laced them. “Yes. During the Twelve Days of Christmas, Lady Lydia asked my mother what she would like as her final gift. My mother said to her that she wanted a child out of her and Peter. You do know that her and Peter finally married?”

Stiles shook his head. A bit of bile rose in his throat. Lydia was his second cousin on his mother’s side. She had often visited him as a child, but her parents were high advisors to the Empress and Emperor so she was often at court. Prince Peter was seven years older than Lydia, but even as a child he had always taken a serious interest in her. Lydia had presented as a Beta, however, and she had hoped that would be the end to that trail of thought. Apparently the Empress had wiggled Lydia the right way. Perhaps she had used Laura’s marriage to Jackson of Whittemore Forest as collateral. As a Beta you had to want to get pregnant to do so, therefore giving them the ability to have a tryst.  
Stiles’ head was spinning. “I did not know that.”

“Well I had always thought that it was a strange match, but she had also started to rib Laura about it and you know, Lydia just thought she missed the sound of little feet on the floors. Then the Sunday after Christmas during the Feast of the Holy Family, she came in really drunk, screaming about how she shouldn’t have to have children. Lydia said that the Empress would just throw her aside like she had her first grandchild once she got pregnant. That she didn't want to be just a birth mother; she refused to be thrown aside just like you had been. She said she had been forced to marry Peter to keep you safe and that she knew the whole story of your situation, she wanted out. She wanted a divorce from Peter and to never have to come to court against her will again. And I didn’t get it. I hadn’t known about Scott or the beatings. I thought she just wanted to leave and so I sided with my uncle. However, the court and eventually High Judge Finstock sided with her. She only resides at the castle because it has been her permanent residence. Peter has withdrawn from court life and now lives in the furthermost northern tower. People were getting more unsettled – two matches for the newest Hale line out due to corruption and bullying by the Empress. Jackson will never leave Laura – he does love her in some weird way.” Derek sighed. “But I wonder what Laura knew.”

“Well if I were you I wouldn’t ask her today. You need to be calm, otherwise you’ll have a coughing fit and fall over. And you’re just starting to look better.” Stiles said, standing up and patting the color on Derek’s cheeks. A complicated knock came at the door – one that was different from the one that had come for lunch. Laura probably had not taken the rejection well and wanted to remind the occupants of the suite who was High Princess and who was not. “That’s my cue then. I’ll ask Allison to play nursemaid for you while I hide in the back room.”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave.” Derek said, his fingers encircling Stiles’ wrists.

“I cannot look at Her Royal Highness and wonder what she knows and does not know. I cannot break bread with a woman I know has caused pain to my family and the ones I love. Do not ask this of me, Derek. You know I cannot do it.” Stiles said, twisting out of Derek’s grip.

Derek let go. Stiles adjusted the strings of his shirt so it was not indecent. Though Laura was his sister he could not look like he was not dressed to greet her. Illness did not beget propriety in the Empire.

Stiles stepped back and looked at Derek. He was cleaner, looked healthier and genuinely looked like he could receive his sister. “I am a miracle worker.” The knock came at the door again.

“Give me another minute, Laura.” Derek called at the door. He paused then snorted. “She has always been so bossy.” Derek sighed. He readjusted his pants and then sat down.  
Stiles nodded a farewell and went to the door, knocking on it. “Allison?”

\---

Allison opened the door. When she had visited last year, the person she had got along the least well with was the High Princess herself. Her reputation as a carbon copy of her mother suited her well and her husband was as vapid and rude as if he was the born royalty and not she. “Come in, Stiles. Scott found some snacks in his bag so his hunger will be dulled. I will bring the food back myself when she leaves.”

Stiles nodded at her. His cheeks were ruddy with emotion. He entered the room, rubbing at his temple. “I might just rub some headache salve on my forehead and call it a day. Deaton can deal with Derek after Laura leaves. I’m sure he will be in a foul mood.”

Allison nodded. Laura was more high-energy and wit than Scott was. Allison sometimes had to retire hours before she normally did at home just so her brain would readjust to its normal thinking patterns before the next morning. Derek had hidden in the shadows for most of the wedding. The way people at court put it, Derek and Laura were as thick as thieves or they hated each other. There was no in between. Allison entered the main bed chamber and turned back to Stiles. “Lock the door behind you.” She mouthed, making a key gesture. She was not sure how dangerous this could get. Stiles nodded again and shut the door. 

Once Allison heard the key click, she turned around to face Prince Derek. He looked in better health but in poor spirits. “Do you wish for me to ask her to leave, Your Highness?” Derek looked at her but shook his head, waving at the door. Derek had always been a man of few words. 

Allison straightened her dress and went to the door. As she opened it, a hand was directly in her face. The owner of the hand pulled it back. “I am sorry, Lady Allison. I was afraid my brother had forgotten I was out here. Again.”

Allison curtsied deep, three times, as was the custom for greeting Laura. “I am sorry we took so long. Derek’s valet seems to be missing and his caretaker had to retire.”  
Laura brushed past Allison to sit on the edge of Derek’s bed. The servants followed her in with food, as did Prince Jackson. Allison stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Only Her Royal Highness may enter. One guest at a time.”

Jackson scoffed and adjusted his shirt. “But I am her husband. Where she goes, I go.”

Allison met his eyes. “The invitation was for the High Princess only.” She looked behind him to find Laura’s whole retinue. “No one besides Her Royal Highness is allowed in. Please excuse yourselves.”

Laura scoffed. “There is plenty of room in here for all of us.”

Derek growled. “Laura, I do not wish to be viewed as if I am a wolf in a cage. Either everyone leaves and you stay or you leave and I get a night of peace and quiet.” 

The siblings met eyes. Derek rarely said no to Laura – the benefits of a younger brother – but when he did she knew not to test him. Once he dumped her off her horse because she had bragged she had better jumping skills. She had not cried though. Their mother would have just laughed in her face. “Leave us. I wish to take my evening meal with my brother. Alone.”

Her retinue sighed but left, Jackson giving a snarl to Allison as he left. “Allison, you too.” Laura called, waving her hand.

“Allison is not a part of your retinue. She is here for me and I wish for her to stay.” Derek continued, his voice low. Allison closed the door after the servants had finished laying out the meal and gave Derek a hard look. In her initial glance he had looked tense. Now he looked like a predator ready to pounce on its prey, Laura unsuspecting of her fate.   
Allison took a piece of hard cheese off of her tray and went to sit in front of the door to the antechamber. She was Scott and Stiles’ only defense. It was also the best view of both Laura and Derek’s faces.

“I do not know why you are being so difficult about this, Derek. It is not like she is your beloved or anything. And all of this quiet, how can you stand it? I know you’ve grown to enjoy being by yourself but this is truly something.” Laura said, removing her gloves and laying them on Derek’s bed.

Derek picked them up and laid them carefully on the tray. “I am being difficult because this is the first time in two months I can sit up straight and see clearly. Perhaps this is the first time in five years I can see clearly, actually.”

Laura picked up a piece of strawberry and bit into it. She swallowed it primly and then turned to Derek. “Brother, you are so overdramatic. Whatever cure Lady Allison brought you, I am sure it would have come to us at some point or another. Deaton says you simply did not want to get well. But look! Here you are. Everyone would have hated seeing the lone Prince die after only living so short and not marrying.”

“Not remarrying, you mean. I was married, Laura. We all know it. You just stick your fingers in your ears when anyone brings it up.” Derek took a dinner roll and a napkin and set it on his lap, his fingers shaking. 

“To that country boy? That whore?” Laura chuckled. “We both know he just wanted a place in the court, a better market for his strawberries, a better life for his father. He distracted you when you went to bargain for a better price for court strawberries and you let him. He was a dalliance, Derek.” Laura picked a piece of imported melon and popped it into her mouth.

“No, Laura. He was my mate. If he was a dalliance, why could only his touch heal me?” Derek countered, biscuit untouched. He was the lone boy in a family of women but he knew how to argue. Laura looked at him, eyes wide. “That’s right, Laura. That is what Lady Allison brought me. The boy I fell in love with, the man that now heals everyone. Including me. I did not wake up like this magically. I woke up because my … my mate and my son have been sitting by my side since they arrived.”

Laura coughed on air. “That is impossible, Derek. You two did not have a child together. We would have known about it before he left.”

“Or maybe when Mother knocked him over and left him to bleed out, the healer came and told him of the gift he had. The gift of life.” Laura looked away. “That’s right, Laura. Unlawful treatment of an Omega, by the royal family no less. And you knew. You knew and you kept it from me!” Derek roared, pulling at the bedclothes.

Laura got up from the bed swiftly and headed towards the fireplace. “Mother said it was necessary. You’d never shown any interest in men before and what was so special about this one boy? This nothing from a troubled border-state. One that would lead the Argents to power…” Laura looked at Allison, uncertain. Allison turned her focus to Derek, who had gotten out of bed. 

“And you wanted to believe her, didn’t you, sister? I bet that her reasons were better than yours. I bet yours were weaker.” A glint came into Derek’s eye as he snagged a strawberry with one unkept fingernail and brought it to his mouth. The juice looked like blood as it streaked out of the sides of his mouth. “It wasn’t even Genim himself that set you off, was it? If you had brought home someone first, you wouldn’t have even given Mother’s thoughts the time of day. You would have been like Cora, fighting for him, helping him escape. It was that you hadn’t found someone and if you couldn’t find a love, I certainly couldn’t keep mine. Isn’t that right, Laura?”

Laura steeled herself. “That sounds so childish, brother.”

“Weren’t we children, Laura?” Derek asked. He grabbed the back of the heavy armchair he sat in earlier. “The three of us, you, me, Cora, we always had to fight about everything, be better than each other. We all knew you were Mother’s favorite and so we fought for her attention after Papa died. But she withdrew, and suddenly you were the only child she cared about.” Derek’s voice had taken on a bitter tone.

Both Hale faces went into frowns. Allison knew the loss of the Emperor had been tough on the whole Empire. Though the Empress ruled, the Emperor was well-liked by all as he had come from the Eastern Shores of the Empire. A bridge between both sides of the Empire. A friendly man with a big smile. That is how Allison remembered the Emperor. She couldn’t imagine losing her father as well as her mother. That is how Derek sounded – that he had lost both parents with one fell swoop. 

“So when she bounced around the idea that she could get rid of the little whore from the Grove, you were all on board. Mother had not approved him and you saw no reason why I should get away with a mate that loved me. I bet you loved it, the feeling that you finally were defeating me at something that I could not best you on. Not like your love life has gone anywhere. Look at the peacock you chose, Jackson. We all know he doesn’t spend all of his nights in your bed.” 

Laura turned a bright red. “You have no say in my personal life, brother.”

“Then why did you have a say in mine?” Derek countered, hand smashing into the tray, sending food and drink flying. 

“Your Royal Highnesses,” Allison started. They both turned to her, glares on their faces. Allison sat back down. She could not stop a fight already in progress. At least they were not hitting each other. Hale fights were known to be terrible.

“I bet you relished when he got hurt, didn’t you, Laura? Seeing me try and fail to bond with Erica, sitting by the lake, distraught? And those things you said, about me being so distracted by his – well, I won’t even repeat the words, but you know what you said. And me, believing you, believing that everything was just a lie, as it had been before. But it wasn’t and I have spent my whole child’s life locked up in this tower because you and Mother see me as some kind of pawn in your political chess game!” Derek’s face was full of color.

Laura laughed. “Come on, Derek, you’re at least a knight.” She got no response. A spoon had managed to land near her during its flight and she bent to pick it up, looking at herself in the reflection. 

Derek stormed over and threw it into the unlit fireplace. “That is not what matters, Laura. What matters is that you have been using me without my permission to play a terrible game. The one you have already lost. You know what the whispers at court were around Chirstmastide, don’t you? That you and Mother are losing touch. First you brand an innocent child a whore and now you force one of the most well-like ladies at court into a marriage? They say I would be a better Emperor, me or Cora.”

Laura snorted. Allison was surprised. Laura rarely made a noise that was improper, as did the Empress. They knew and calculated every step of every day. “Brother, I have never heard you speak so much.”

“Well I have never been so passionate!” Derek cried, grasping the chair. His legs shook, Allison noticed. This feud needed to end soon. “You and mother look the love of my life and my child from me. She almost murdered the both of them by pushing him into a table and letting the wound fester. Do you admit to knowing that?”

“Knowing that he was injured?” Laura looked at her nails. “Of course. Mother hoped it would kill him rather than an execution.”

“You are a terrible person. You could have killed a child, Laura!” Derek screamed. Laura did not look ashamed. “At least members of our family are decent. Cora helped him escape and I was unaware of all the wrongdoing going on because I believed in the good of the Empire. Now I am unsure of its place on the map.”

Laura scoffed. “Cora did not help Stiles escape.”

Derek shook his head. “It was her idea. Her and Lord Deaton and Sir Boyd’s.” Laura’s eyes widened again. “I know, your favored Lord Boyd, helping out a helpless soul. I thought that is why you liked him. He is so pure, so noble.” Derek chuckled as Laura darkened in anger. “It was so unfortunate that he was a match for the Princess Erica, wasn’t it? That he after all this time loves her more than life itself. You have grown cold and therefore are stuck with someone as cold and wretched as you.”

“I will not take these words from you, Brother. You are obviously still physically ill and have not come back to yourself.” Laura went for the door, her face the color of a precious pomegranate.

Derek grabbed her at the wrist, looking his sister dead in the eye. “At least I will come back to myself, Sister. Do not visit again.”

“Or?” Laura said, attempting to remove her hand from her brother’s grasp. She turned her eyes on him, but they had no effect.

“Or I might be feeling so well as to lodge a knife in your throat. Sororicide while under the influence of poison is voided by the courts of law, is it not?” Derek said, eyes gleaming a deep red. 

After a few minutes of struggling, Derek let Laura go. She tumbled a few feet back but straightened up after a moment. “Be gone, Sister. Do not come back.” Derek gestured at the door and walked stiffly back to his bed.

Laura looked to Allison for word, but Allison merely nodded at her and gestured to the door. In another life, they would be equals. Laura screamed and slammed the door behind her, her footfalls echoing in the outer chamber. Derek fell into his bed, all of the fight out of him.

“I will call for more food, Your Highness.” Allison said, getting up from her place at the door. She had seen the wolves fight and she was unsure of how she felt now. 

Derek turned himself over and nodded at her, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Thank you. Could you call for Deaton as well?” He coughed loudly and thoroughly. “I think I might need to have some toxins drained.” He pulled the covers up and over his body.

The antechamber door opened and Scott poked his head out. “Is the yelling over now, Father?”

Derek smiled at Scott and opened his arms. “Yes, Father just got in an argument with the witch’s assistant. She is gone now. Come sit with your father while we wait for dinner.”  
Scott smiled and ran at the bed, climbing up the side and directly into Derek’s arms. “Dada fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.”

“Then we should let him sleep, don’t you think? Just you, me and Allison – your mother,” he corrected, “can eat supper tonight. We will leave just enough for your Dada.” 

Scott nodded and kissed Derek’s cheek. “That sounds wonderful, Father.”

“Scott?” Derek asked, his voice shaking a little.

“Yes, Father?” Scott said, tucking himself into bed with Derek.

“Please call me Papa. It is what I called my father.” Derek’s hands began to shake again. 

“Okay, Papa. Mother, are we waiting for something?” Scott said, turning his face to Allison.

“No, I’m going to call for food right now.” She said, exiting the room to the sound of an overloud child’s voice and a prince on the verge of tears.

\---

Stiles woke up to a swift kick in the stomach. He groaned and turned in the bed. His headache had not gotten any better with sleep and that was all he wanted. “Scott, I know it is still night time, go back to sleep, darling.”

“But Dada, Papa can’t stop coughing! I can’t stop it, make it better.” Scott’s voice wobbled and Stiles immediately woke up a little more. Coughing was a good sign, but uncontrollable coughing could lead to death. 

Stiles jumped out of the bed and hit the floor running. Scott had left the door open and Allison was trying to pour a glass of water, her hands shaking as she watched Derek cough. Stiles stepped on what was most likely a roll as he raced for the bed. Why there was perfectly good food on the floor, Stiles wondered. It wasn’t the time though. “Allison, tell me what is happening.” Stiles got on the bed, trying to get Derek to sit up a little more. 

“Her Royal Highness came in and wanted to bring her whole retinue in. I said no, only her. She got in a huff about it but Derek told her it was either her or no one. They all left and Laura came in, pretending to be a concerned sister. I’m not saying she isn’t,” Allison had finished pouring the water and went over to Stiles, “but she was very condescending towards His Highness and he got a bit angry.”

Derek’s coughs wouldn’t stop so Stiles climbed behind him, pulling Derek’s back to his chest. “Scott, get me a bowl from the tray. Or the floor. Or anywhere.” Scott began to scramble for a bowl. “So what you are saying is Her Royal Highness went expressly against both Deaton and I’s orders and angered Derek so much that it forced him into a fit?” Scott hit Stiles in the knee with a bowl. “Thank you, Scott. Go sit down or if you think it will be hard to watch, you can go into the other room.” Scott nodded and then took flight into the other room. “Alright, Derek, time to let the poison go. Put it right into the bowl.” Derek immediately opened his mouth and black spittle went into the bowl. “Allison, call for Deaton, please.”

Allison fled the room.

“Alright Derek, just let it come out, baby, just let it come out.” Derek’s coughs slowed, instead he just let the bile flow from the back of his throat. “Good job, I know it hurts, I know it hurts. I know you want to lean forwards but that’ll make it hurt more.” Derek grunted. “It will.” Before Derek could argue again, he started to cough. “This probably feels nasty but this is what was supposed to happen. I’m sorry Laura provoked it but it is better it happens earlier rather than later. It is going to be alright, Derek.” 

Derek took a deep breath in. “Thank you, I just didn’t want to mess up the new bedclothes. Plus that black stuff is very hard to clean off of clothes.”

“Well luckily we had a bowl.” Stiles commented, absently rubbing Derek’s chest. It was easy to touch Derek like this, to comfort him. He was coming down from a fit that Stiles knew was bound to happen if Laura came to him. Derek had always talked about how Laura enjoyed torturing him, how she was a miniature of her mother. 

“She knew about you. About Mother hitting you. She is supposed to be the next ruler of our Empire and yet she can let nasty things like that happen. She can let people get hurt. I just – I just cannot believe she would sit idly by, you know?” Derek sighed into Stiles’ chest. 

“If the court is in such turmoil as you say, it probably would be better to be a firm ruler. She doesn’t see the harm – she’s been bred to be the next Empress. You and Cora, you see the empathy that is needed. Before your father died, that is what he provided to the Empire and to your mother. Jackson was not the best choice but he comes from the East and I’m sure your mother saw that as a way for people to connect to him. She’s probably preparing to step back.”

“She can’t though. The people like Laura but they don’t trust her. The people have never considered Peter as an option so they won’t like it if he tries to be an interim leader until Laura is more popular. I simply don’t have the tenacity to rule and Cora is nineteen.” Derek sighed and coughed a little.

“Do not worry about it. Rome was not built in a day, you cannot solve your mother’s problems. She has made her bed and she will lie in it. Laura has time to see her errors and become her own person. Your mother cannot control her forever.” Stiles said, carding his hands through Derek’s hair.

A silence spread upon the room as they waited for Deaton. Scott’s soft snores could be heard through the door. Derek caught Stiles’ hand and stroked it, pulling both hands to his belly. Their breathing began to synch. “Do you ever think about what could have happened?” Derek asked, their hands splayed.

“If I hadn’t been expelled?” Stiles said, staring at their hands. “All of the time. Every day I look at Scott and wonder if I can handle this alone. If one day your mother will storm my home, demanding he be brought here, without his friends or me, to live a life of luxury but sadness. I saw it in you, I see it still in Cora. He would not survive this life.”

“He is happy with you. I can see that. This place does inflict a certain type of behavior on people. It makes you stand straight and bow straight and not enjoy yourself.” Derek sighed again, head lolling to the side.

“I can tell by your skin. All of the life has left it. You once would leave every morning to swim or to fish or to ride.” He would come back happy and full of life; every morning it was as if Stiles was what he was bringing his happiness to.

“I couldn’t enjoy it after a while. I felt like a bird trapped in a cage.” Derek said. “I still am one, I suppose.”

“You couldn’t find it in you to leave. That is okay.” Stiles commented, rubbing his hand over Derek’s. “It is okay to have weaknesses.”

“Since you know all of mine,” Derek continued, “what are yours? I never learned, back then. You were always so complete.”

_You. If you asked me to stay, I would,_ Stiles thought. “My tongue has a habit of getting away from me. That always gets me in trouble.”

‘But your big ones. I have so many.” Derek commented into Stiles’ shoulder.

“Scott. Saying no, really working on his behavior. When he smiles it is as if nothing could be better.” Stiles commented.

Derek sat up quickly. “Allison has returned with Deaton.” 

Stiles moved his hands back to Derek’s shoulders, squeezing them. “Deaton is a friend. He has never lead me astray. They’re just coming to check on you. And I’m still not feeling well so I was going to ask him to make me something to kill this headache.”

Derek turned into Stiles’ arms, his hand going for Stiles’ forehead. “You feel warmer than usual.”

“You have a fever, you probably think this room is winter temperature.” Derek frowned. “I’m sure I am fine, the pain transference might have just hit me in a strange spot.”

Allison knocked and then she and Deaton entered. Deaton bowed but only with his upper body. “Glad to see the fit has stopped, Your Highness. May I see the discharge?” Derek nodded, turned back towards the front of the bed and picked up the bowl. Deaton took it and looked at it. “Just as in the beginning, just the poison coming back up. Quite a lot of it too. You should have it flushed out of your system by Tuesday at the latest.” Deaton turned to dump the bowl.

“Deaton, remember that question you asked me earlier, if I needed your assistance?” Deaton looked confused, but then Stiles pointed at his stomach subtly. “Can you check to make sure I am not coming down with anything? I would hate to infect anyone.” 

Deaton came over to the bed and sat on the edge. Derek growled at him. “I am not a threat, Your Highness. You know this.” Derek looked at him then slouched forward so he would have better access to Stiles. Deaton felt his forehead, his neck, rubbed his stomach. “I am afraid I was right. Luckily it is only in its early stages and since we’ve caught it, you aren’t contagious. I will bring you a vial of antidote in the morning with the meal.” Deaton stood up and rubbed his hands together.

“Thank you.” Stiles turned to Allison, who was staring at them quizzically. “Heat.” He mouthed. Her eyes bulged open. “Deaton, when you go, can you tell the guards to not let a big group of people in? Or any group of people, really. Prince Derek and Princess Laura’s visit did not go well.”

“I heard from Her Imperial Majesty. She was not happy about either of their behavior and wanted to speak to His Highness in the morning.”

“No.” Derek said, sliding back on top of Stiles. “I do not want to see her. Either of them. Crazy, lying people, only wanting what is best for them and not their family. They leave me be.”

“I think that after this attack, the Empress will understand the need for only visits from people like Cora or Lydia. Even then, they are not visiting him but visiting me. And she does not want to upset me, does she?”

Deaton frowned. “I doubt she is worried about upsetting you.”

“If she speaks to me, she has to give the Arrows of Argent back. Remind her of that if she comes to you asking about the fit. Derek needs people he likes. He should be well enough for a showdown in two days’ time. He has been ill and needs rest. So much has happened in just the day I have been here.”

Deaton nodded. “I will remind Her Imperial Majesty. I doubt I will go back to sleep after this. Too much to be done.” Stiles smiled and nodded. He agreed. 

Deaton bowed again and left. Allison shut the door behind him then looked at the tableau on the bed. Derek, spread on top of Stiles, smiling as Stiles murmured a story of Scott to him. “I am going to go to sleep.”

Stiles nodded. “Blow the candles out as you go, please.” Allison rolled her eyes but did as she was told. Stiles always denied having a royal air about him, but he was bossy enough. And here, with Derek, it looked like a normal night between two princes. She sighed and resigned herself to a night of Scott’s kicking.


	3. A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets caught up in a dream about what life could have been like. Allison, realizing that he was going into his condition quicker than expected, hurries to find Deaton and fix the situation at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a little bit shorter than normal. I've had terrible writer's block and I knew what I wanted to say, it just wouldn't come out. I did promise I'd update often so here you all go. Please comment if you think it is getting better, getting worse, you like it? I don't know.
> 
> I am also really interested in feedback on whether you feel like Laura and eventually Talia are too harsh? I have read similar fics in which they are hard on Stiles - hard on everyone, really, except their family - and that is what their personality points stem from. Also a little bit of the Empress' inspiration comes from Empress Berenene in Tamora Pierce's 'Will of the Empress', as does most of the Hale empire.
> 
> Lots of love. Hope your day is going well, reader.

_Stiles was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because the fabric hanging from the bed was a different color. Or perhaps it was just the light that was different. Perhaps it was just a fever dream. He hadn’t had one since he was fifteen and they had always been vivid. He could have sworn the fabric was a deep red, the color of the Empire, but instead it was a deep blue, like the sea. Stiles liked it. It reminded him of his heavy bedcover at home, the one he used when it was cold but he didn’t want to close his windows._

_Someone was sleeping on top of him; he had apparently gone to sleep bare chested because soft hair tickled his chest. Stiles picked up his hand and ran it through their hair. Soft, probably what a cloud felt like. Derek. No one’s hair, even in dreams of others when he was younger, had felt quite like Derek’s. He had always told Derek it is because the soap and hair wash in the castle was made out of silk, to which Derek had always laughed at. But there had never been such nice things, even where he lived now. Derek had grown up with the best of everything._

_He felt the head on his chest shift and he pushed himself up onto dream world’s pillow covers. The bedclothes had changed into a navy comforter with light blue sheets – it was as if he was in the ocean. Stiles looked down and even the pillow shams were blue. Derek wasn’t a fan of bright colors for himself. Stiles supposed dream world had made everything Stiles’ favorite. A hand caught Stiles’ wrist as he began to drag his fingers against the soft cotton sheets._

_Stiles looked up and there was Derek. It wasn’t the Derek he had fallen asleep with, however, but the Derek that Stiles had daydreamed of. He could see the healthy glow of Derek’s cheeks, his hair cut long in front but shorter in the back so it hung over regally and didn’t look silly. He was bare chested and under the blanket. Stiles moved his foot and realized he was naked. If he had to guess, Derek probably was too._

_Now that Stiles had seen Derek now, he supposed his imagination was just filling in bits and pieces from memories and old dreams. This Derek was beaming at him like the Derek he had met that first day in the field. He looked at Stiles as though he was the center of the universe, the many stars that littered the sky. He looked as if Stiles was precious, the most precious thing to ever exist. Stiles cherished it. He had known that look from days in this same bed, telling stories about picking strawberries with big Scott and getting dressed up by Lydia. Listening to stories of Laura’s incessant torture and the time Cora begged to put lip paint on Derek because she couldn’t put it on herself._

_Derek interrupted his thoughts. “I thought we were going to take a nap, love.” Derek said, his chin planted firmly in the middle of Stiles’ chest, arms around Stiles’ waist. A flush of heat went through Stiles immediately. He didn’t normally think of how he felt when people touched him. Slight brushes of hands, shoulder rubs, clasps on the back didn’t set a fire in his belly. He didn’t feel his heart pounding when Allison would pet his hair after a long day. No one had ever been quite like Derek and he had a feeling no one ever would. A hand touched the side of Stiles’ face, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Are you still not feeling well, darling?” Derek asked. In dreams he was so nice._

_“I’m tired but not enough to fall asleep, if you understand.” Stiles said, threading his hands through Derek’s hair._

_“It has been a difficult couple of weeks, I will give you that. Do you want to try the other way of getting to sleep? The nanny said the baby will be out for a while and Scott is with big Scott …” Derek trailed off, his fingers sliding down off of Stiles’ face onto his neck, his collarbone, skirting his right nipple and then pushing himself up so they were face to face. Stiles met his eyes and he saw the life he had always associated with Derek in them. All of his thoughts were pushed to the background._

_“We can always try.” Stiles said, using the leverage to pull Derek the hint more forward that he needed to be for Stiles to kiss him. It was the cliché from every love story, the explosions behind his eyes that felt like cannon blasts in his chest. Hands and legs rearranged themselves and Stiles felt a pull on his right nipple and gasped._

_“I know what you like, baby. Don’t think I’ve forgotten because it’s been a while.” Derek said, breaking the kiss to go to Stiles’ neck. Stiles keened when he started giving his neck small kisses and bites. “I see you like this in my dreams, you know. All of the time. On the couch reading, in the library looking out the big window, watching the snow fall. I remember every second of it and when I close my eyes all I can see is you. All I want to see is you.” Derek looked up again. Stiles felt the tears welling up. “Don’t cry, my love. I know bad things have happened but nothing will change us now. I love you. I always have. I always will. There will be no others and there haven’t ever been. We are true loves. True mates. Meant to be.”_

_“Meant to be.” Stiles repeated. Derek nodded and Stiles felt his nimble fingers sliding back towards his rear end. He had missed this …_

\---

Allison woke up to a cloying scent hanging in the air. She was unsure of what was so strong that it could wake her in a deep sleep, but she knew that it had to be something strong. Stronger than the need to sleep. A need buried deep inside of her screamed to protect her own. She wasn’t sure what she needed to protect though.

She leaned over and sniffed Scott. He did not smell any different. As a child in theory he could pick up diseases, which often smelled like dead carcasses on a hot day. This scent smelled like a confectioner’s house, bright and bubbly. She stood up and went to the main room. Perhaps the maid had brought something into the suite in the middle of the night. Unlikely but Stiles had not eaten the night before and perhaps she had remembered to bring something nice. 

Or maybe Deaton had brought tea to calm Stiles’ body down, she thought as she wrenched open the door. The smell was stronger in here. She was attracted to it, so she let her body take itself to where it wanted to go. She walked over to the bed and in the pre-morning light saw Derek face first on top of Stiles. 

So that was Stiles’ heat scent. It was strong but eerily calming. The few Omegas she had met during the start of their heat had always made Allison want to lash out, to grab them and to smell them. Even the mated one she had come across had left a strong ache in her belly. For whatever reason it was not the same with Stiles. 

Either way she needed to get Deaton to hurry up. The healer had said he was not headed for bed, so she could find him somewhere on castle grounds. She moved away from the bed and slid on her house shoes. She could not waste times with safer, more secure shoes. She had to move before Stiles made a mistake. 

Not that he would see it as such, she mused as she began her walk into the main part of the castle. She nodded at the sleepy servants, either up too early from whatever last night’s reverie was or ready for bed and their replacement had not come. She understood the weariness in their bones. She could not wait to be home. The smell of the city was hard for her to deal with after a life near the sea. 

Eventually she hit the medical ward. The guard in front of the door snapped to attention. Allison had the family sigil embroidered on almost every piece of clothing. She also did not wear the face paint all women at court wore. It was a clear sign that she was from somewhere else. “Is Deaton inside?”

“Yes my lady.” The guard replied. He looked warily at Allison, then at the door. “But you should not go in there…”

“I am here helping the Prince recover from his poisoning. If anything else is distracting Deaton then they can wait. He has attendants, does he not?” The guard nodded. “Then they may deal with the other illnesses. This cannot wait.” 

The guard made eyes at the door but crumpled after a few seconds and stepped aside. 

Allison strode into the healer’s rooms with the power of someone who knew they were in the right. What she was not expecting was Her Excellency standing by the table, arguing softly with Deaton over something that seemed quite heated. “You Imperial Highness.” Allison greeted. She curtsied five times – two short curtsies, one long, deep curtsy and then two short ones again – and pulled herself off the floor. “I am sorry to interrupt but I need something from Deaton that we discussed earlier.”

“Lady Allison, will you explain to me why you can see my son, who I bore, but I may not?” The Empress scoffed. She had not heard the word ‘no’ very often in her life, Allison supposed, but she was going to hear it right now. 

“Because it was at the express wishes of the healer who came for the Prince. They do not feel comfortable with a large audience. In fact when Princess Laura came yesterday, she caused the Prince such a stir that he had an attack early this morning. I am sure the healers are just looking out for His Highness’ health.”

“I think it is incredibly dumb. I am the Empress. This is my land." She said, slamming her hand down onto the counter. Deaton held the glass he was mixing ingredients in, but everything else shook with the movement. "I own this castle and every last thing in it. If your healer does not think I will not see my son by the end of the day then they are sorely mistaken.” The Empress clucked. 

“Your Imperial Majesty I hope I am not too out of line saying this. I am a guest of your house, this you know. However I did not come by choice, nor am I up before the dawn because of choice. The person who is healing your son is afraid of you. You know who they are, I know who they are. They have every right to not want to be around you due to the circumstances on which they left this very castle, this very life for a new one. One they did not ask for, nor want to marry into, nor any of the incredibly cruel things that you said to them." Allison had once hoped to be like the Empress some day. Someone who had their country so put together, someone with a family but a life of her own. Instead she saw a sad older woman who was staring at her hand as if ready to burst. Allison's tone softened. "I am simply here to tell healer Deaton that the concoction he is making needs to finish quickly otherwise I am afraid we might have two sick people in that tower.” Allison raised her eyebrows at Deaton. He nodded.

“That I what I said, Your Excellency. It is not my place. I am sure you have read the contract that was signed by your ambassadors. You know the consequences if you step in that room and see Genim.” The name brought the Empress to flinch as if she had been stung by a bee in the middle of her forehead. If Allison wasn’t so overwrought with nerves and exhausted she would have laughed. “We have all burned our bridges at one point or another, Your Excellency. You saw me do it with my sister, Laura with countless suitors, Cora with Sir Isaac. I am almost completely sure that His Royal Highness should be healed by the end of this week if not by Wednesday. Then you will have him for the rest of your natural lives.” Deaton tapped his tool twice on the side of a glass then rested it on a piece of cloth. “Now if you will excuse us, Your Excellency, I have to go check your son to make sure he does not have another attack and Genim to make sure that he will be fit to leave the castle as soon as possible.”

He edged around the table. One of the rules of the Hale Court was that you never turned your back to the Empress within castle walls. Once he reached Allison, they both did the customary one bow or curtsy and then side walked to the door. As soon as she reached it, Allison turned and ran through the opening, Deaton quickly behind her.

“How bad is it? Do we need to separate them?” Deaton asked as they set a brisk pace towards the tower.”

“No, I only woke because I had began to smell it. Derek is still so tired from the attack, I am sure he won’t wake unless it is dire.” Allison answered.

“But he could still wake up. I cannot imagine Her Excellency to allow Genim to leave if there might be another child on the way.” Deaton said.

Allison began to run. She couldn’t leave without Stiles or Scott. They were her family and she would not let some Empress with her harsh words ruin her family.

\---

_Stiles laughed as Derek jokingly bit his side. It allowed for Stiles’ knees to spread apart more, which is what Derek wanted._

_“Derek?” Stiles said as Derek worked his way down Stiles’ body._

_“Yes?” Derek looked up from his stopping point, head on Stiles’ thigh. It was so close to where Stiles wanted it, yet so far._

_“I love you.” Stiles said shyly._

_Derek lit up like the morning sky. “I love you too.”_

_This was the best dream Stiles had ever had._


	4. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles reflects on his past as his future rolls on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again another short chapter. I hope you all don't mind. I think not having the steam of school and classes to write for on my back I just don't have as much juice. 
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments, kudos and bookmarks! They mean the world to me. I have been reading the comments and I thank everyone for giving such positive feedback (and also thanks for the tag suggestions). Love is always appreciated and I hope you know it is returned to you, even if I haven't responded.

_“Stiles,” a high voice called. He opened his eyes but he couldn’t find the source. Derek bit down hard and Stiles’ eyes rolled back into his head. “Stiles, wake up.”_

_That’s right, Stiles thought as he came back to himself. This is a dream. He looked down at Derek. It is all a dream. I need to wake up. This isn’t helping._

_“Stiles, Stiles, love, is something wrong?” Derek asked but when Stiles looked down, there were two Dereks, weaving in and out of his line of vision._

_“This is a dream. I’m sleeping. I need to wake up.” Stiles flexed his fingers and shut his eyes. “Wake up, wake up, wake up…”_

\---

Stiles woke up to Allison hovering over him. Naturally, he screamed. Screaming, he had learned, always alerted other people of where you were and gave them reason to check on you. Not like Allison would kill him, but this could at some point be another dream. “Am I awake?” Stiles asked.

“Yes. Did you think you were dreaming of someone calling to you?” Allison replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“No, I knew I was in a dream but I didn’t want to leave it. At least, I think I didn’t want to leave it. I hadn’t had a dream like that in years.” Stiles said, pushing up onto the pillows. Derek followed, attached to his stomach like a limpet. “I suppose we will need to get him off of me.”

“I went and got Deaton. He’s got a tincture of some sort. You should just swallow it and it should calm some of the smells you’re setting off. As for Derek … Well, I am unsure removing him from your presence will do well. He has obviously attached to you.”

A glass clinked and Stiles looked up to see Deaton with said glass in hand. “Derek seems to have formed an attachment to you. It was obvious we needed you days ago, but this behavior is unusual. Of course, I have never seen a pair that was mated separated for so long come back together.”

“Has he been regular in his cycles?” Stiles said, rubbing his hands through Derek’s long hair. His dream Derek’s had been shorter and softer. It was probably all of the brittle ends of illness stuck in Derek’s hair that made it so particularly brittle. When he was healthy again he would be right as rain.

“He has but he has not taken a partner since you have left.” Derek’s heats were always around Beltane and lasted a week. Stiles had always wondered why so close to Beltane Derek had ended up on his father’s land. He had never had the chance to ask. The Empress and her entourage had gone to the East Coast, which explained their time together. They had most likely left Derek so he could be at peace or maybe find someone before his mother chose for him.

Learning it was Derek’s first time with another had always been a fond memory of Stiles’.

\--- 

_“Have you ever done this before?” Stiles had asked as they walked up the stairs, his palm sweaty in Derek’s._

_Derek had looked back at him with a quizzical face. “No, it is improper. I wanted to – I wanted to wait until I found someone I loved, you know. Have you?” His tone of voice implied that he would have minded a little, but not overly so._

_Stiles had snorted. “Have you seen me? Before you came everyone used to make fun of me, ‘Oh, look at Stiles, the weirdest Omega to ever exist’. It was a joke –“_

_Derek had pulled Stiles close in the small staircase. “You are beautiful. Do not believe otherwise.”_

_Stiles had felt the blush on his face in the dark hallway as Derek had leaned in to kiss him._

\---

“Stiles … Hello?” 

Stiles snapped back to attention. Thoughts of those days would just make it worse. “And what about the courtier that poisoned him? Had he not consummated his lust for her?”

Deaton chuckled. “It wasn’t so much of a lust as it was a threat. The Empress had made it very clear she wanted him out of the game so that when she let Cora choose whomever, Derek wouldn’t be the symbol that he is. I am surprised he chose Paige, though. I am also surprised that she was on the Opposition. She has always been headstrong but a Capital child being against the way the Empress rules? Crazy.”

“Opposition?” Stiles questioned as he opened his hand for the glass. 

Deaton handed it to him. “Drink it quickly, Stiles, as if it is a shot of spirits.”

Stiles glared at the glass. “It seems you have forgotten, Deaton, that Omegas are not allowed spirits, no matter how much they request them.”

“You are allowed them for your healings! Drinking them could do something to your body and I don’t want to risk it!” Allison cried. It was an old argument and at home it was between Allison and Stiles. Duke Christopher had long ago given up in trying to dissuade Stiles from doing improper things; he had simply realized that Stiles saw no reason for him not to do them. Stiles saw himself as a function human being, one who did not follow the laws or rules of the society in which he had been placed. Duke Christopher had pieced the story of the young man who came to his land and the reports of tyranny in the Empire together and had just let Stiles live his own life. He had no reason to interfere – Stiles was his own person.

“Either way just drink it very quickly. Tip it back.” Deaton encouraged, rubbing his hands together.

Stiles sighed and pinched his nose, much like he told his younger patients to do. He took a deep breath in and swallowed the concoction down. It tastes of rosemary and rosewater, a nasty combination, and if he had smelled it he probably would have been able to tell what exactly Deaton had put in there.

After a minute or so of breathing, Stiles’ head cleared. He didn’t feel as if he was in a dry sweat, nor as if he was going to fly out of his skin. “So what is the Opposition?” Stiles asked again.

Deaton sighed and took the glass from him, setting it down on the side table. “The Opposition is a group of nobles who believe that the Hales are responsible for a lot of nasty things that have been going down with citizens across the Empire. With both your escape and Lydia’s renouncement of Peter, the Empress has started to fall out of favor with people. The nobility is split pretty evenly for or against her. In fact one province far south was so anti-Empire the Empress gave the Kingdom to the South the province on Erica and Boyd’s wedding anniversary last year.” Deaton ran a hand across Stiles’ forehead. “It seems that the fever you had was breaking. Lady Allison?”

“He is not as poignant as he was before. Either way I am going to get in contact with his father to see if it would be easier to have the Baron collect him and have him stay at the Grove to sit the heat out if it comes.” Allison replied.   
“Dad.” Stiles breathed, his face glowing at the prospect of seeing his father again. “Allison, can you call for a bath on your way out too? I’m so sweaty.” Stiles said, gesturing at his shirt.  
“Of course. Now if you all will excuse me, I’ve got a groomsman to find.” Allison said and exited the chamber quickly, heading for the staircase. She couldn’t let this go on longer than needed. If the Baron was the bribe she needed to get them out of here then that is what she would do.

\---

Meanwhile, Derek had decided to wake up. He groaned at the intrusion of light into his chambers and flopped over to the other side of the bed, snoring within a minute. Stiles breathed out in relief. “I think if I take a bath in some lavender and rosemary with a hint of rosewater it will keep him off me.”

Deaton nodded. “You’ve got good taste buds there.”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders. “You taste something so often it becomes engrained into your taste buds.” Stiles raised a hand and gestured at the chairs. “Allison will be gone for a long time and I want to take a bath. If Scott wakes up he needs someone here to watch him.”

“What about Derek?” Deaton asked, sitting softly in the high-backed chair.

“I want to trust Derek with Scott but I just want leave him alone with a Hale, even if that Hale is his father. They are already bonding and I didn’t even think Derek would be conscious most of this time, let alone having his son eat and read with him in his very own bed. I don’t want either of them to get hurt.”

Deaton nodded. “I understand.”

They sat in silence until the maid to tell Stiles that the bath was ready to go. He got out of bed and went into the antechamber. Scott was still dead to the world, his legs spread wide and his head tilted in towards the foot of the bed. 

Stiles picked up a fresh pair of trousers and a loose fitting shirt and drifted back into the chamber. “I’ll be quick.”

\---

Before Stiles had even gotten into healing he had loved scented bathwater. It reminded him of rare shipments of spices that his father would buy for his mother before she died. Of being a child and running through the orchards at the top of the Grove, laughing about how Scott couldn’t keep up. The market downtown where all the food was cooked and served through open windows during the summer. 

Now that he healed he understood how important it was that he have a subtle mix, a calm about him that came from what he put in his body. He stripped off the remnants of yesterday and dropped them next to the tub. He would ask for a bag of some sorts – the clothes could be risky to have around Alphas and would need to be boiled to get rid of his scent before he wore them again.

Stiles also had never been ashamed of his body. As a young child, everyone had looked the same down there. The sex of the child was told by whether a small bit of skin hung down in the front or if it stayed attached to the film that surrounded the pubic area. When you presented, there were Alphas, who grew exponentially and their genitalia expanded to meet; Betas, who stayed bodily proportional and kept their given genitalia; and Omegas. Omegas were a different breed because their bodies changed. With females their hips grew jutted and their breasts would remain high until they were in their sixties. It had once been in fashion to put fake female Omega hip juts in regular female’s dresses. With males, the skin hung down but they grew female genitalia. Their chests could go back and forth and they could assume the feeling of being feminine or masculine depending on their mood.

However, Stiles hadn’t enjoyed a solitary bath in ages. At home he barely had time to rinse himself off. Sitting in a large brass tub with piping hot water and sweet smelling soap was another universe. 

Stiles stepped in and immediately sank to the bottom of the tub. Water splashed everywhere but he didn’t care. It wasn’t his job to clean today. He took deep breaths and allowed himself to enjoy it. 

However fate had other plans for him. As soon as he had relaxed fully into the bath, the Princess Laura opened the main chamber door.

Stiles did the logical thing and screamed.


	5. The Facade Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though Derek has begun to heal, the same cannot be said for Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope that this length is better than the last couple of them. I think I'm finally hitting my stride. I can't say how much longer it will be until I finish but I can't imagine it going over fifteen chapters.
> 
> I have tried to make the characters more three-dimensional. As always, comments are wonderful and have obviously helped me improve this story. I write this for you all to enjoy and I hope you are.

Admittedly the screaming had done its job. Laura had jumped back as soon as she had heard it, her eyes narrowed in on Stiles as if he was a foreign object. Behind her a small gaggle of people backed up as if they had been hit. Stiles curled his body into itself in the bathwater. Being naked was nothing to be ashamed of but being naked in front of someone who disliked you was a different story.

There was a crash in the other room and all eyes turned to the closed door. Laura laughed and straightened her skirts. Stiles often wondered what it was like to be an Alpha; the benefits were well worth the costs. To be able to hear other people in other rooms was an advantage Stiles wished he could have. However he would probably get nothing done. He had a hard time concentrating with his own limited senses; enhanced ones would probably lead to his untimely demise.

Half a minute of silence later and the door was yanked open by Derek in merely a pair of tight trousers, Deaton hovering over his shoulder. Derek surveyed the room and his eyes lingered on Stiles before turning to the doorway. His nostrils flared as he saw Laura and her entourage at the door. “Get out.” He said, pitching his voice low and gesturing at the door.

“Why, Derek, I am glad to see you are better after your little fit last night.” Laura said, her eyes going back to Stiles. Stiles curled in on himself more, if that was even possible. He saw a glint in her eye he had seen in her mother’s as she left him on the floor to bleed. “Seems your little pet here thinks he can do as he pleases while you sleep.”

“Stiles is not a pet, Laura. He is a person.” With that Derek walked across the room to his sister, his strides purposeful in their meaning. He walked directly up to his sister and looked her in the eye, his nose a hair away from hers. They locked eyes and for a second it looked as if there would be violence in the room. Instead Derek pulled her into the room and looked at her group. “I am not an animal in a menagerie, you all may not come and go as you please. You ask why I hole myself up in this room, why there is opposition to the government and yet when something happens you act in a manner which is unbecoming of all of you. I may not be the heir to the throne but I do have some power. I have rights to privacy and I do not wish my life to be exposed like a nasty bruise.”

While this was going on Deaton had gone to Stiles, picking up a towel as he went. He walked to the far side of the tub and then turned, holding the towel above his head to give Stiles his full privacy. After getting out of the tub and drying himself off, Stiles stepped out from behind Deaton and around the tub. Once he reached the center of the room, he cleared his throat. “If I may speak, Your Royal Highnesses.”

Both Laura and Derek broke eye contact to look at him. “You may.” Derek said, turning his eyes back to Laura.

Stiles nodded. “I would bow but I feel it is already indecent enough that an unmated, unmarried Omega is standing in front of a group of people mostly unclothed. I am not of any noble rank nor shall I ever be so I feel I should not speak out of turn. However I am the reason that the Prince is standing today. I asked very little of your people, Your Royal Highnesses, and yet again I have been disgraced and treated like trash by the very family that is supposed to represent and help its people. I am sorry that you had little to no self-control and could not wait two mere days to needlessly needle your brother. I am sorry there is already an opposition to your rule. None of this is my fault, nor has it ever been. Yesterday your actions provoked your own brother into having an attack and yet not even a day later you expect him to be better and ready to listen to you and your ramblings over trivial things. His Highness’ health is not a trivial thing.”

“And how are you healing him, little Genim?” Laura challenged, sniffing the air. “Are you attempting to lure him back by being fertile, using your heat again to get what you want?”

“Laura!” Derek cried. “You speak out of turn.”

“Derek I say nothing that our family has not stated before. He is simply a country boy that seduced you and used his body to get what he wanted.”

“I hate to interrupt, Princess, but I do think you should think before you cause any more damage than you already have.” Deaton said. Laura turned to him, her eyes vicious and words on her lips, but Deaton merely raised a hand. “Think of what you have done. You have given the Arrows of Argent back to their original owners. You are airing private feelings in front of a group that will spread gossip about you and your family despite the consequences it may cause. And finally …” Deaton stopped.

The door to the bedchamber opened and Scott wandered out. “Dada? Why are people yelling?”

Stiles’ eyes widened. This is exactly what he had feared. He had kept Scott a secret and now it was out in the open, in front of court and crown. And there was no denying that Scott was not Derek’s child. Besides his wide brown eyes and scattered beauty marks, Scott resembled a Hale right down to his overlarge teeth. Though the agreement had been seen by Laura and the Empress, they probably thought he had meant his step-brother Scott and not the unique, lovely child that stood before them. It was not rare for Omegas to have children soon after their first mating but due to the interbreeding of royal families, many children died before birth. An heir like this, free of defects and major health problems, was one that would be cherished. If Stiles had stayed, Scott would have been revered for his health and Stiles would have been seen as a strong mate, a strong Omega. 

The silence in the room was deafening as Stiles went over and picked Scott up. Scott immediately clung to his neck, the sweet sleep smell rushing into Stiles’ nose. “Why are there so many people looking at me?” Scott asked softly.

“They have never seen a child just as cute as you, I suppose.” Stiles whispered back.

“Are they here to take us to the witch?” Scott asked, his voice wavering. “I don’t want to see the witch, I don’t want to leave you, Dada.” Scott began to shake.

“No, no, honey, no one is taking you. They signed a contract saying after we visited your father that they have no claim to you here. We’re going to go home and see Grandfather and Matthew and everything will go back to normal.” Stiles said, rubbing Scott’s back.

Scott turned his head to he could see Derek. “Without Papa?”

“Yes, Papa is needed here.” Stiles sighed. He probably could have left Scott at home with Duke Christopher and avoided this.

Scott kicked Stiles and Stiles dutifully let him down and followed Scott on his natural path towards Derek. Scott seemed to pay no mind to the fact both of them were bare chested or that the situation was unusual. He held his arms up and Derek picked him up easily, resting Scott on one hip. Scott clung to Derek. After a moment of breathing heavily, Scott turned to Laura. “Are you the witch’s assistant?”

Laura’s eyes went unusually soft. “I don’t know a witch, sweetheart.”

“She hurt my Dada. You look like her, kinda. She gave him the scar on his back. She wanted him to go away forever and ever.” Scott said solemnly.

“Scar?” Derek inquired, glancing at Stiles, his arms securely around Scott.

Stiles sighed. He had hoped Derek would not ask again about his trials in the dungeon across the way. Unsure about whether he should turn his back to people who were surely his enemy, he decided to just turn to the side with the scar, half his face still turned towards the intruders. It was a long, dark pink scar that ran from mid-rib to next to his left back dimple. A gasp came from the entourage behind Laura and the Princess’ face paled. Derek looked furious. 

“It has healed well.” Deaton commented.

“It has. It reminds me every day of the cruelty I experienced as a citizen of this empire, of why I do not return. There are many things that I miss and love about the Empire,” Stiles looked at Derek, “but not enough to eliminate the torture I went through.”

There was a rustling among the crowd and Allison appeared in the doorway, her teeth bared as she saw the situation. 

“Allison,” Stiles called, “come take Scott. There are a few things I have left to say that are not for children’s ears.”

“Dada, no!” Scott said, clinging to Derek. Even as young and confused as he was, he knew leaving the room might have consequences.

“Scott, don’t worry. You’re just going with your mother to get changed. I will be finished soon and then we will eat breakfast. Alright?” Stiles asked as Allison held her arms out for Scott.

After a moment, Scott nodded and went into Allison’s arms begrudgingly. The room waited until the sound of loud laughter could be heard before their conversation started up again.

“So you see, Princess, my stance. I will not stay here. There is an agreement that says you cannot keep me or my son. As soon as I leave this land I promise you I will not be found breathing on it until the end of your lifetime.” Out of anyone else’s mouth this would sound like a threat to murder Laura. Instead it was a promise to not only keep out of her way but to never let her see the family that she had once rejected again. “As for my stance on this rebellion, this opposition, I will tell you and your people that I will play no part in it. Neither my son nor I wish to be figureheads of a revolution. I appreciate,” he winced at that word, but it was true, “the observance of the wrongdoings that came to me when I last lived here. I hope this exposure of my son explains the actions of the Lady Lydia, my cousin, and the problems she has with the current government. All I want is to be at peace. If you have ever gotten to know me, Your Royal Highness, you would have known that I was not and am not a social climber. My whole life I just wanted a love like my father and mother’s. I wanted to find a man or a woman who would love me for me for the rest of my life, nothing more and nothing less. Ideally they would have not been from money so that the two of us could live with my father, live with my family, until his time on this planet was up. I wanted children, of course, and out of this whole nasty situation that is all I have from my childish dream.”

Laura’s face had gone from pale to blotchy and red. She had not always been this cold, this calculated, she thought as she looked at the sadness on her brother’s face. She had been so clouded by her mother, by her own jealousy that her brother had found love first, that she had ruined a pure and unguarded love. “And what of my brother, Genim? What do you have to say of him?”

Stiles looked up at her and for the first time Laura truly saw him as a person, not just a piece of tawdry country ass that her brother had brought home. He was barely shorter than Derek, his skin pale as those in the beginning stages of their heat normally were. His body was still half-wet from its bath. His hair was mussed and sweaty and Laura supposed he must have been up with Derek. She felt awful now. She had given up sitting and waiting for Derek to come back weeks ago, more worried about how to cover Lydia and Jackson’s affair to the public then her own brother’s health. 

“Your Highness, I do not know if you believe in true love.” Stiles chuckled and looked down at his hands, “I doubt it is taught in the capital, the purest form that mystics tell of by their fires at night. My father cares for my stepmother but they love each other in a way more comparable to friends. My mother was my father’s only and true love. The way they were together was magical. Even when they fought you could see the love in their eyes. For me that was Derek.” Stiles’ voice broke. Laura saw her brother reach for what Laura realized was still his love but Stiles stepped away. “It will always be Derek. I do not see myself ever loving another. Before Derek I was uncomfortable, gangly, always the butt of everyone’s joke.” A soft snort came out of Stiles’ nose, as if he was remembering all of the cruel words ever thrown at him. “Your brother never saw me that way. No one else has ever seen me that way I suppose. I will never take another to bed, despite you and your mother’s crass nickname for me.” Stiles wrung his hands together.

A tear fell down Laura’s cheek. Had she really been this cruel to this man, this man who seemed to want nothing more but a simple life? “I am sorry –“ her voice came out shaky.

“There is no need for theatrics.” Stiles said heavily, still looking at his hands. “Or fake apologies. I cannot take them. All I wanted to do was take a bath.” He said and it sounded as if he was going to cry. “I am not brave.” He said quietly and then looked up briefly, not meeting Laura’s eyes. He took a deep breath and then fled to the bed chamber, leaving a shocked room.

Laura began to sob as the door shut. She had always known that her heart had grown hard after the death of her father but had it grown to such lengths as to punish an innocent being? Had she become so wrapped up in pleasing and replicating her mother that she had caused her brother the worst pain? “Derek,” she choked out, “Derek, I am sorry, I’m so sorry –“ She looked up but his face was blank, as if he didn’t quite see her or understand what was going on. “Derek, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean to…” The last time she had cried her father passed away. She was known for being strong. Her tears did nothing to move him.

Arms wrapped around her and she struggled with them, wanting to get to her brother. She knew it was Jackson trying to comfort her. “Get off of me, Jackson.”

“Laura, he’s not going to respond…” Jackson said into her ear.

“I don’t care!” She screamed, hiccupping as she managed to get him off of her. “He’s my family and I hurt him, he’s my brother and I hurt him.” A hand wrapped around her forearm and she turned to see her younger sister staring at her. “Cora, I ,was wrong. Cora…”

Cora was not known for her compassion but she did grab her sister and hold her tightly. “Laura, we need to leave.” She began pulling her sister towards the door.

Laura followed but continued her sobbing, this time directed at Cora. “I was wrong and you were right. I’m the oldest. I’m supposed to take care of you two and instead I mucked it up. I even introduced him to Paige, thinking it was the right decision." Her sobs came back as she cried, "I’m a horrible person, I’m a horrible person.” Cora started lead her sister to her chamber.

Jackson turned and looked at the entourage. “You all can speak of this as you like but if you mention this … this outburst at the end then I will find you.” He bared his teeth. He was no Alpha but he was the Emperor-to-be. He had pull. “When I find you, you will wish that you had never set foot on this earth.”

As the door began to shut, Derek walked over to the tub and ran his hand over the top of the water. “The water has gone cold. Heather, come here.”

The maid nervously walked in, her hands shaking. She had come with breakfast and had found a shouting matching and then a crying princess instead of the normal calm that surrounded the door. She curtsied deeply in the proper fashion, then spoke. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Have you brought breakfast?” Derek asked as he reached for both the dirty and clean clothes on the floor.

“Yes, Your Highness. Can I do anything else for you?” She asked, her hands shaking.

“Yes you can. Get this water reheated or remake the bath completely with piping hot water and,” he sniffed the air, “the lavender that was in it. Get Sir Isaac, Sir Boyd and Sir Danny and send them to me. Afterwards they will stand guard at the bottom of the tower and the main door to this chamber. No one is to enter without their say. Tell all servants this. Do I make myself clear?” Derek said, removing his hand and flicking the water back into the tub.

“Yes, of course! I attend to it immediately, Your Highness.” She gestured at another servant who pushed in the breakfast cart. 

Derek stopped it with one hand. “I will take it in, thank you.” They both curtsied and fled. “Deaton, can you go get your things? I think it would be best to have you stay in a guest chamber after all of this.” Derek pointed to the hallway that lead to the guest bedroom on the other side of the stairwell.

“Yes.” Deaton answered gravely. “I suppose I shall. I will also make Stiles a calming draught, though I feel I may have to do it in front of him for him to believe it is not poisoned.”

Derek sighed. “I am afraid that though his appearance has healed me, it is another blow to him.”

Deaton nodded. “He will bounce back, Derek. He always does.” Deaton went to the door and opened it. “I will be back as soon as I can. I’ll try not to get sidetracked.” 

He shut the door behind him. Derek took a deep breath in.


	6. Reflection Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Derek reflects on his past and his future, he weighs the value of being a prince against its cost. A plan begins to form to get Stiles out of the capital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, sometimes life just gets you by the scruff and says, "what are you going to do now?" For me that was this chapter. It took me a while to write because of other experiences. Hopefully getting out of my house and moving around a bit has helped get me going.
> 
> As always, I value your comments and criticisms. I hope I don't let you down. Have a great day and know that your thoughts are valued, even if it feels like they aren't in real life sometimes. Love and peace.

Derek stared at the bathtub for a few moments before he sighed and turned towards the breakfast cart. When he had woken up to the sound of the main chamber door opening it was as if something inside of him had cracked. He had not felt this energized, this alive in years.

He hadn’t argued with Laura like that since they were children, young and equals. No one had known who the heir was going to be when they were kids. Laura was the oldest but Derek was the only male; their mother had won the throne from their uncle by sheer force of will. Peter had always been clever but he was years and years younger and simply could not compete with Talia when their own father had passed. Laura, despite only having two years on Derek, clearly had the leadership abilities for it. Whenever they would play castle Derek would always have to be the opposing general and not the Emperor. Sometimes if their father played Derek could be Laura’s general, but he never got to lead by himself.

Then their father had died when Derek was ten. It was as if Derek’s heart had been torn out of his chest. Laura began to hide in their mother’s room, follow her around as if she was going to bring their father back. Cora was only six and was hysterical most of the time. Laura, at twelve, would torture her about her crying, call her a baby and that is where the line began. Derek would bring Cora into his chamber, let her sleep with him and his stuffed wolf until morning. Laura became increasingly crueler to the house staff, the wait staff, anyone who wasn’t her mother or a foreigner of some kind. 

Morrell, the advisor of all things spiritual, told Derek one day that it was the way her soul was healing and that the princess would not take any advice from her. ‘” _Souls heal wrong sometimes, sweetheart, and you’ve tried your best with her but she needs to learn in her own time. You are helping Cora though, child. She needs the most help.”_ Cora looked just like their father and therefore was the hardest child for the Empress to interact with.

It was no surprise that Laura took an Omega from a pleasure house for her first heat at fourteen. Her name had been Julia, apparently, and Laura had her come back for the next five. Julia retired after that and mysteriously disappeared. 

It was also no surprise that on her fifteenth birthday she was named heir to the Empire. She was the only child that sat in on meetings, the only child constantly introducing herself to new people, the only one who was out and about. The people who lived permanently in the castle saw differently though. Peter had gotten over not being in charge long ago; instead Lydia had become his goal. Once he had told Derek that he would be a better leader than his mother or Laura because he took both Laura’s beatings, was raising Cora and had kept up with his training as a knight. 

Cora bit the nannies. A lot.

However Derek couldn’t resent Laura for what she did. In a family of Alphas, Laura looked out for herself. Derek had seen that and gone on his way to becoming a knight. Even if he wanted the power of the throne, being Major General of the Imperial Guard would have been just as pleasing. It also meant he didn’t have to wear stuffy Imperial garb every day. Even dressing up for balls and other social gatherings made him hide in his room for days and days after.

And then Laura began to eye Boyd as they trained. Her teasing and taunting turned into one of a sexual nature. Laura had always been on the prowl for sexual partners, and though her one in heat was in reality a prostitute, she had more than her fair share of unpaid bed partners. Derek assumed Jennifer reminded Laura of their father. In the times he had seen Jennifer she had the long, medium brown hair and blue eyes of their father. The only time he had heard her laugh he had run down the stairs to see if Papa had come back to them.

It was a week before Derek’s fifth heat when he met Stiles. He had been left behind while his family made a trip to the East. Later on Derek learned it was so that his family could bargain for Erica’s hand from the King and Queen of the Southern Isles. His mother left him the menial task of going and asking the Baron of the Grove if he would not mind lowering prices of both the in-season strawberries and the apples to come in the fall. If there was to be a wedding, the money had to come out of someone’s pocket and it certainly was not in the interest of the Kingdom to the South to pay it. They were fine marrying their daughter off to some prince on an island far away.

Derek had done as he was told and took to the Grove merely days before his heat hit. He had never needed a partner and the Grove was merely a four hour ride on horseback. He was sure he could leave in the morning and be back at night. It was at his own idiocy he had forgotten the day was also Beltane. No one would be fooled into thinking that the person he brought home for Beltane would be it. 

He had returned that very night and made the High Priest take their vows in his incredibly drunken stupor. He had taken Stiles back to this chamber – his hiding place – and laid claim to him as best he could. He had no idea that his plan would blow up in his face. 

His heat had just died out when his mother had come back, screeching when she found the son of the person she had sent Derek to deal with in her own son’s bed. Derek had been so exhausted he had let his mother take Stiles. He had assumed that they were to talk about a new wedding ceremony.

By the time his head was on straight, Stiles had been hidden from him and he watched as his mother tore up all of the documents that legally bound them, told Derek that Stiles had denounced him, called Stiles a ‘ne’er do well’ and a ‘whore’. He did not agree but his mother was in such a fuss about how it was his duty to make smart decisions and that having a drunken affair on Beltane would not bode well for his wedding.

Upon meeting Princess Erica he assumed he would have liked her a lot if they hadn’t met under these circumstances. She was blonde, busty and had a laugh that could cut glass. She held her own mini-court in Derek’s sitting room with some of his knights. She detested Laura and loved Cora. He could not look at her without wondering what Stiles was doing, where he was. Sometimes he swore he could smell Stiles on his mother or his knights but the subject was always changed when he brought Stiles up. 

He should have known something was amiss. Instead he spent his days at the window, gazing out towards the Grove. 

On the night of his wedding even Deaton seemed nervous. Cora would pop in and out but was weirdly perky about everything, as if she had been struck by lightning. When Erica did not show up for the ceremony, Derek himself had left to find her. He knew that she was not totally impressed by him but this was an agreement. He had let Stiles go in order to fulfill his duty. 

He found Boyd and Erica kissing tenderly in one of the gardens. He cleared his throat and they jumped apart, Erica explaining while Boyd held her hand and looked behind him, towards an open door. 

Once their parents found them and Erica’s parents changed the accords so that Erica would marry Boyd, his mother went looking in that empty chamber. She had screamed loudly, causing an echo sound. Derek had sworn that Boyd and Cora winked at each other during the wedding reception. Derek began to retreat into himself after that night – the two people closest to him sharing a secret they both refused they had.

Now it all came to a head. Derek had been led by his family into bad decisions for his whole life. These bad decisions had cost him Stiles once and now they cost him the chance of having a healthy family with Stiles and Scott. Now the chance to convince them that he needed them in the castle with him had been foiled by Laura. Laura, who used to read him his favorite stories in the middle of the night when he would have nightmares. Laura, who taught him how to joust in men’s clothing. Laura, who had known about the torture of an innocent human being and had done nothing.

Derek sighed and pushed the cart into his bedroom. He heard soft crying and could not help but to want to join it. This whole plan had been to heal him and now that he felt more like himself then he had in years, he had undone the healing that Stiles had done for himself.

He paused at the door and then knocked. “Breakfast is here.” In merely seconds a toddler with tear-stained cheeks opened the door for him.

“Papa!” Scott wailed and flung himself at Derek. “Papa we’re leaving soon!”

Derek picked Scott up easily, settling Scott on his hip. “I know, sweetheart. I know. But you’re going to see your Granddada and Uncle Scott and you’ll be away from the witch forever.”

“And away from you forever!” Scott said, bursting again into tears. Derek looked over his head and saw Stiles on the bed, head tilted down to stare at his hands. Allison was sitting on the floor, packing their things. Derek gripped Scott a little tighter.

“I know you have to go. But you’ll be with your Mother and Dada and I’ll always be here when you need me. You can write me letters and stories and poems and I’ll read them all. You’re a good storyteller.” Scott hiccupped. “How about we eat breakfast in you and your Dada’s room so we can all be real close?” Scott nodded. “Alright, hold on tight while I pull the tray inside with us.”

Derek pulled the tray behind him as went into the antechamber. Allison did not acknowledge him but he figured she did not like him overmuch. It was his own fault. Derek walked up to the very edge of the table and set the tray in front of Stiles. He then pulled Scott to his front and sat Scott on his lap. Reaching out to the tray, he picked up a piece of bread and gave it to Scott. “Eat for me, Scott.” Scott took the bread and looked at it, then at Derek. “Go on, no use in wasting it. If you don’t want to eat it, I will.” This caused Scott to stuff the whole piece in his mouth and begin chewing rapidly. Derek took another piece of bread and placed it in Stiles’ hand. This caused him to look up at Derek. “Eat for me, please. Sooner you eat, sooner you can take a bath.”

“My bath was ruined.” Stiles said as he brought the bread to his mouth.

“Good thing I ordered a new one made. As soon as you eat, Deaton’s promised to make you a calming drought in front of your own eyes and then you can take a nice, easy bath. Like you wanted. The main Imperial Guard is standing by downstairs to make sure you don’t have any interruptions.” The _I’m sorry_ was left unsaid. 

Stiles looked up at Derek with large brown eyes with a tinge of red. “Thank you.”

\---

Breakfast went by quickly and Scott was so tired he went down for a nap right afterwards. Derek had never seen a child sleep so much, but it was probably a combination of things. Derek walked after Stiles into the main chamber after a few minutes of watching Scott breathe. They left Allison to keep the watch instead.

Derek watched as Deaton threaded a potion in front of their eyes. Derek kept his attention on Deaton’s heartbeat, but nothing seemed amiss. Deaton was always a good person in the end. Derek had heard stories of Deaton being untruthful or needlessly tricky, but Derek supposed it was to keep people on their toes. He had obviously taken a shine to Stiles and Derek was incredibly grateful.

It wasn’t until after Stiles had tipped the calming drought down his throat that the knock came at the door. Derek listened and heard the groans of both Boyd and Isaac in the hall. “Come in.”

Heather the maid came in first, holding the door open for two knights with a steel tub steaming with water. “They insisted on carrying it from the kitchens up, Your Highness. Sir Daniel is at the bottom step. He said he would come up after the other two had their orders.” 

Derek nodded. “Thank you. Boyd, Isaac, put it next to the old one and then take its twin downstairs.” They both nodded and carefully dropped the heavy tub before picking up the equally as full old tub and heading towards the stairs. “Come back after you are done.” There was a grunt from Boyd that signaled he understood. “Heather, tell Sir Daniel that you are allowed in and out. He’ll hear it again from me but you need me before then.” Heather nodded and then dropped in a deep curtsy. “And you don’t have to curtsy every time you come in, either. Just a simple head tilt will do, if you please.” Heather nodded and then left, closing the door behind her. “Stiles, your bath.” Derek said, pointing at the bath and then turning towards the door.

“What about the others? I don’t fancy them seeing me naked as well.” Stiles said, a sigh in his tone.

“Don’t worry, they wouldn’t dare to look or come too close. Besides, I want you in here to tell them who you want in too.” Derek continued his staring contest with the door.

He heard another sigh, this time of agreement, and Derek heard the pants drop to the floor. He kept his eyes on the door and once he had heard the displacement of the extra water and the happy sound of relief. After a minute of this, Derek went and collected three chairs, his back still to Stiles as he did so, and sat them towards the opposite end of the room, all of their backs to Stiles and close to the door.

Derek tuned the world out and let his hearing come back. He heard Heather and Daniel talk about the lentil soup they had for Easter, heard Boyd and Isaac dropping the tub on the back lawn and heading up to the entrance. He heard the four’s soft conversation, the sound of steps going up and up and up until they were outside the door. He pulled his hearing back just as the knock came. 

Derek went to the door, his back still towards the tub, and opened it. He popped his head out. “Close your eyes and hold hands.” He was lucky Boyd and Isaac were used to his strangeness. None of this would have happened if they all weren’t as close. They did immediately as they were told. Derek took Isaac’s hand and led him to the closest chair, then untangle his and Boyd’s hands and led Derek to the further one. Stiles and Boyd were friends so he was closest to Stiles, Isaac further away. “Tell me what you know.”

Isaac started. “Her Imperial Majesty was in a fit this morning about your fit this morning. She knows who is up here and still insists on seeing you. We think after the whole loss of the Arrows of Argent, she’ll be more likely to try and come into your personal chambers.”

Derek snorted. His mother had him moved to the infirmary the three times he had visited her during his poisoning. He remembered the jostling of the young medics, the mystic that had his weight float between them, the taste of magic on his tongue. She had never liked this tower and hadn’t set a foot in it since she had plucked Stiles from it years ago. 

Isaac kicked him. “I am serious, Derek. She is overwrought and incredibly mad at Laura for seeing Stiles. He needs to leave, Derek. The messenger Scott sent a dove to Cora saying they had left for the castle half an hour ago.”

Boyd interjected, his voice low and steady. “The Guard is on your side though, Derek. If she tries to mess with him, she will face her own Guard’s judgment. You are our leader, not her. You have been for a long time, even if you do lock yourself up in this travesty of a place.”

Isaac nodded vigorously. “Too much red in the décor, I’ve always said.”

A “hear, hear” came from the tub area. The three laughed. 

“Anyway, who can we let in?” Isaac asked. 

“Deaton has agreed to stay here in case of emergency. Morrell will be allowed in if she sees the need to visit. Is Cora alright, Stiles?” Derek asked. He wanted so badly to turn his head around and meet Stiles’ eyes, but he wanted to let Stiles clean on his own terms, not while Derek stared at his bare chest, at the scar he helped create inadvertently. 

“Cora is fine,” Stiles’ reply came, his voice floating over from the other side of the chamber. “The Lady Lydia, if she is still around. When my father and big Scott get here, the two of them as well. If Lydia wants to see me off with them it will be fine. You three, Heather, any of Deaton’s assistants you all deem well enough. Only one of those at a time though, Derek, and you must watch and listen to them carefully.” Stiles paused and there was a splashing sound and then a scrubbing one. “That’s all from my end. You said my family was on their way?”

Isaac flexed his hands, a stain of red coming to his cheeks. “Yes, sir. They should be here by dinner at the latest. Leaving at dinner would probably be the smartest thing to do. We could assemble the guard and have them walk out with you before their own dinner.”

Stiles made a sound, a movement of an object in air, and then laughed. “That was a nod. Is that a good idea, Derek?”

Derek would miss his name being said like that forever. “It is simply the best option we have, Stiles.” The best that doesn’t involve you leaving me, he thought sadly. Any longer here and you’ll either go into heat or my mother will get her clutches on you, break the little that you have rebuilt of yourself. “You’ll be back to the Grove by midnight. Isaac, you and Daniel will go with him to make sure nothing happens.”

“I’d rather go, Derek.” Boyd said. Derek turned to him and a look of sadness crossed his face. Boyd wanted to see the captured free of their cage once again. He had always been and would always be a good person.

“Then go say goodbye to your wife. Tell her hello from me, that I wish the children well. You should be gone no longer than a fortnight even if things do go poorly. Isaac and Daniel will accompany you, however.” He couldn’t lose Boyd to an attack. Out of all three, Boyd was the one would guard Stiles with his life. He was also with the most to risk.

Boyd’s hand came up to rest on Derek’s right shoulder. Isaac mirrored it on Derek’s left a few seconds later. They all breathed in sync as they had when they would go on camping trips and swear they were brothers under the full moon. 

The sound of wet feet meeting the floor drew them from their reverie. A hand rested on the back of Derek’s neck and he turned to see a fully dressed Stiles with a towel in his unused hand. “Time for one last nap?” Stiles joked. It fell flat.

Derek nodded and stood up, both Isaac and Boyd’s hands dropping. “Tell Daniel of what I have said, then send him up to guard the main chamber. Isaac, you stay at the bottom. Make sure Heather brings you food and water. 

They both left without a sound.


	7. The Calvary Rides In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for Stiles and company to leave the castle before things get too bad. Can they let go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay back on schedule (kind of). I think I know where I'm going to end it and how it all ties up. I'd love to hear how you all think I'm going to end it. Any grammatical mistakes are my own, it is complicated to have six people talking to each other at once.

It wasn’t until he, Derek, and Scott were lying in Derek’s bed that Stiles let out a sigh of relief. The day had already been quite wild and even his second bath had felt like a lesson in warfare. He only had to hang on until the end of the day and then he’d be going back to his childhood home. He would get to see his father again. He would get to see Scott and Melissa again. He would get to pick up the teddy bear his mother made him and take it back home with him so little Scott could keep him nice and safe until he had children of his own. He could pick strawberries with his bare hands and bring them back to the Shore. He had always bored Allison with stories of jams his mother taught him to make and now he could actually make one for her and have her eat it.

It also meant leaving Derek here. Even with the few people he had seen Derek positively interact with, he doubted leaving Derek in this castle would keep him happy. Derek had always wanted to do more than sit in this room, put on fancy clothes and be a Prince. He was a fully trained knight, could cook and clean for himself. He had wanted to ask Derek why he didn’t just leave since Derek became coherent.

Instead what comes out of his mouth was “What is Paige like?” That name had been so frequent in his past day, he couldn’t help but to be curious. He had never heard of a person with that name. In his opinion it was too close to ‘page’, and who wanted to be compared to a young, sweaty, prepubescent boy?

Derek flinched and he readjusted his posture on the bed, pulling Stiles into his arms. Stiles pulled Scott onto his chest and they both turned their eyes up to Derek. “Paige is the daughter of a viscount in the South. She was brought here two years ago to be a lady-in-waiting for Cora. She had dark hair, wickedly smart eyes, and a mole. Bigger than yours, and only one, but she had one. She was the first person in a while that Laura had made me meet and she is so smart. She knows all of the court musicians and how to play all of their instruments. She is good at cards and riding. She was always very curious about you. That probably should have been the first big sign, but she held no aggression towards you and I just needed someone to talk to. I also should have realized the reason Boyd didn’t want to talk about you was because he let you out. He had his name cleared because of the whole Erica thing, but it makes sense now. And Cora didn’t speak to me for half a year when I let Mother take you away.”

“So you liked Paige because she liked me?” Stiles asked, his hand running over Scott’s arm.

“Pretty much. People would always whisper when we would go places alone but I have a little garden in the back of weird fruits and I got copies of the myths from that group of mystics you liked – it was just a way to get my feelings out since Mother hates when I go see Morrell now. I think Paige felt bad for me by the end. She apologized to me the day she poisoned me. Paige said Mother is crazy and that I should be able to go to Morrell if I need too. Mother says I’m too old and I shouldn’t need a soothsayer. She wasn’t always this weird.” Derek said, his head tilted back towards the ceiling.

“Who, Morrell?” Stiles teased.

“No, my mother. She used to be so fun to be around. She and my father would do whatever they could to make us happy and healthy and made sure we always had what we wanted, within reason. And once he passed she’s become this – this crazy person. And now she wants grandchildren…” Derek looked down at Scott, who had woken up a little more. “Why did you choose to call him Scott?”

“That isn’t his given name. He kind of chose it himself?” Stiles laughed, “I was very lonely those first couple of years. Allison couldn’t be around all of the time and Duke Christopher only warmed up to me once Scott could start talking and charmed his way into being carried around by the Duke himself. I would always talk about his Uncle Scott, tell him stories of us picking fruits and falling off of things. Just silly things, things you get told as a child but don’t remember. He picked up on Scott though and thought it was his own name. He simply refuses to recognize anything else as someone talking to him. I’m hoping once he gets older he’ll decide to go by his given name.”

“Which is?” Derek prompted.

“My name is Maximillian Frederic Theodore Jonathan Hale, first of my name.” Scott answered and rolled onto Derek’s stomach. “What’s your given name?”

“Theodore Philip Henry Derek Hale, third of my name.” Derek responded without thinking.

“See, we all have fake names! Dada’s isn’t event close to his given name. And yours is the last of your given names. I happen to think that Scott is a perfectly good name. I named myself just like you and Dada did.” Scott grinned up at Derek.

“Well your given names are combinations of mine, your grandfather Stilinski and the greatest ruler to ever exist.” Derek said solemnly.

“Nuh-uh! I don’t have Alexander anywhere in my name, Papa. Don’t be silly.” Scott laughed. “Alexander the Great was the bestest ruler in the history of the world. Dada and Grandfather agree.”

“Well Maximillian Frederic was my father and in my opinion, he was the best Emperor that our Empire ever had. He was probably as awesome as your own dada is.” Fingers brushed the back of Stiles’ neck. “He got rid of the slaves in the Empire and decreed that no Omega should have to marry because their parents say so.” 

“I know, Grandfather told me that Maximillian Frederic broke his arm once. Said it was the only reason Dada was allowed to name me it instead of something cool. Like Scott.” Scott poked Stiles in the belly. “Is Grandfather coming with Granddada and Uncle Scott?”

“I do not think so but you can go ask your mother if you wish. She’s probably playing cards all by her lonesome in the other room. Maybe you can show your father how good you are at cards.” Scott nodded and got off the bed, slowly ambling towards the back room.

“Thank you.” Derek said, his lips caressing Stiles’ hair.

“Thank you for getting him off of your stomach?” Stiles said, his hands clenched in the sheet.

“No, thank you for naming him after my father. He is – he’s just like my father, if you’ll believe me.” Derek said, covering Stiles’ hand with his ow.

“I just figured I had to name him properly in case something happened. You can’t have a Duke, a Baron or an Emperor named Scott.” Stiles chuckled. “I also knew you loved your father very much. It was no trouble.”

“Dada, Papa, Mother has her cards! Lets play!” Scott screamed, launching himself towards the bed. Stiles sighed and went to grab him. At least one of them was thinking clearly.

\----

The rest of the day went by quietly, as if they were waiting for a storm to arrive. Every so often the four in the bedchamber would pause as they heard feet coming and going. On one momentous occasion Heather even popped in with their lunch. It was a very quiet and to most would have been a nice afternoon. Derek had sent Heather off with the insistence that she make a picnic basket of sandwiches and other finger foods for their ride home and to have it up by four. 

She had held true and now it was a quarter past four and Scott was eyeing the carrots in the picnic basket when a knock came at the door. Deaton had joined them around lunch and was out in the main chamber making Stiles more drought, so naturally he was the person to answer it. Stiles found Derek’s lack of valet strange but made no comments. Perhaps his valet had been poisoned too.

“Yes, Boyd?” Deaton asked, snapping Stiles out of his poison reverie.

“Sir, a man who claims to be Duke Christopher is in the castle. He was last seen arguing with Peter Hale and I was wondering if Lady Allison would like to claim him or kick him out? I figured he might be here for them.” Boyd gestured to the room. “Not you, of course, Sir. Or His Highness.”

There was a knock at the bottom of the stairs. “Allison!” A deep voice called. “Come let me up or I might beat the life out of Peter Hale.”

Allison sighed and stood up from her chair. “That’s my father. I’ll go get him. I wasn’t expecting him to move so quickly or to come here but he must have left someone else in charge.” She kept mumbling as she walked down the stairs.

“Scott, put the carrots back. You can’t hug your grandfather if you’re covered in carrots.” Stiles said lazily from his place on the bed. He was going to miss this bed. It smelled good, like Derek and sunshine. 

Scott snapped out of his carrot staring and stood up. “Grandfather?” Scott said, looking around for Duke Christopher. Stiles felt no need to explain when the sounds of matching boots going up the stairs confirmed that both Argents were on their way up to see them. “GRANDFATHER.” Scott crowed and ran into the other room. 

Derek began to go after him but Stiles swatted him on the stomach. “Deaton and Boyd will catch him if he tries to get past the door. Duke Christopher probably won’t put him down for a while either. He loves Scott – only person that can get away with calling him Max.”

On that note, a loud “MAX!” could be heard and Stiles stared up again at the silk over Derek’s bed. 

“You really should exchange the red one for a blue one. I like blue better when I’m sleeping – it reminds me of peace and the ocean. This makes me think of blood.” Stiles had officially lost it. He felt so idiotic saying these things but as soon as that damn drought was done, at least he’d only be saying them to himself. He liked to think that no one liked his heat ramblings. Even his own father had tired of them after the first year and he hadn’t had a heat in five years so he was sure they’d be back with a vengeance. 

“Son!” A voice called. Stiles pushed himself up to look at Duke Christopher, who had Scott pushed up on his hip. “Stiles, you look unwell. I am sorry it took me a while to get here but it is quite a journey and I was unsure of where to go…” Duke Christopher made eye contact with Derek and bowed his head. “Your Highness.” If Stiles had bothered to look at Derek, he would have seen red eyes burning at the intruder currently carrying his child.

“You got here before my dad did, sir. How do you know Peter Hale?” Stiles smacked a hand over his mouth. Normally he wasn’t this frank, even towards Duke Christopher. Derek chuckled.

The Duke simply raised an eyebrow and sniffed. He then sighed and sat in the same armchair his daughter preferred. “Well, it started a long time ago when I was training to be a knight with Maximillian Hale.”

“Grandpapa!” Scott cheered.

Duke Christopher gave Scott a shake. “Yes, the very one you’re named after.” Duke Christopher sat back in his chair and set Scott on his lap. Deaton came in with a cask of drink for Stiles, handing it to Derek to sniff. “Now I had a lot of respect for Max but Peter, well he always rubbed me the wrong way ….”

\---

The stories Duke Christopher had of the Hales were voluminous, and everyone besides Stiles was so entranced by them that the time began to slip by. Stiles had found comfort in between Derek’s legs, his head on a shoulder. The drought had been twice as strong, yet Stiles felt his body burning it off triple time. The dinner bell rang and Stiles turned his face towards the window. Only Derek was paying him any mind, but Derek also felt the double-time beating of his heart as he waited for his father.

He had to tell Derek that he didn’t want to leave him alone though. He had to. He pulled on Derek’s wrist, gesturing him to come closer. Derek tilted his head and so Stiles moved his lips to the shell of Derek’s ear. “I don’t want to leave you here alone. I just want you to know that. I’m going to miss you again. A lot.”

Derek shuddered and pulled Stiles a little closer. As he licked his lips to reply a sharp knock came at the door. “The Baron Stilinski.” Daniel’s voice called in and Stiles immediately disentangled himself from Derek’s arms and ran towards the door. 

“Dad!” He yelled and once he reached the door was picked up by his own father. The smell of fruit and clover overwhelmed him and Stiles felt tears come to his eyes. The last time he had seen his father he had thought he would see him weeks later at the most. Five years and now there his father was. A little white hair at the temples but still the same old father. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I thought you said a few weeks, huh?” His father replied and Stiles clung to his dad like he was Scott’s age and could not weigh more than a sack of flour. 

“Hand him over, Baron.” A playful voice came from behind the two and Stiles made eye contact with his in everything but blood brother. 

“Scott!” Stiles cried and reached out with an arm only to be pulled into a bear hug. Scott’s hair was shorter than he had kept it as a teenager and he had proper clothes on instead of his normal shirtlessness, but it was a good look on him. Grown up.

“Dada?” A voice called and Stiles was set down to see Duke Christopher carrying over little Scott towards him and his family. “Dada, who are them?”

“Jonathan.” Duke Christopher said, bowing his head and offering Stiles little Scott.

“Christopher. Good to see you.” Baron Jonathan said and extended his arm. They shook with the formality of friends. 

Stiles propped Scott up on his hip. “Well, this old man is your Granddada,” Stiles said in a teasing voice, “and this is your Uncle Scott.”

Little Scott scooted into Stiles a little more, looking shyly at the newcomers. “Hi.”

“Hello yourself, little guy. I can’t belive you named yourself after me.” Scott said, amused. 

“I resent that old comment, Genim. I am barely half a century old. When I reach a century, then we can toss that word around.” Stiles’ father said, clapping him on the back. “Scott is ready to take your bags so we may leave as soon as possible.”

Allison chimed in. “They’re all in the ante-chamber in the back. We only have a light bag of clothing and a few books and then a picnic basket.”

Scott looked at her, only seeing her for the first time, and then swept into a deep bow. “Of course, my fine lady. I apologize for not bowing sooner.” He stood up. “My name is Scott. Show me the way.”

Allison laughed and turned on her heel, Scott quick to follow. Stiles rolled his eyes. “He always has fallen head over heels at first glance.”

“Some people never change. Are you ready to leave, Genim?” His father asked, looking over Stiles. “You do seem a bit pale?”

Deaton chimed in, “That’s due to the residual heat that’s bound to kick in soon. It’d be best if he was at home for that. He hasn’t had one since Scott was conceived, it will most likely be rough.”

“Since Scott was born?” The Baron ran his hand over Stiles’ forehead. “Coming back has triggered it?” He glared at Derek. “What horrible timing. Your Highness, will you help Scott with the bags? I am going to walk Genim down to the carriage now. Duke Christopher, will you be joining us?”

“If you can put my horse on a lead rein and we go slow. I feel she might pass out if we do not.” Christopher laughed. “I did leave after you.”

The Baron laughed. “You always were a fast one. Shall we?”

\---

Stiles’ father had brought the biggest carriage they had. Stiles knew it was the biggest because it was brand new to his eyes and therefore was made after he had left. It was probably for his father’s second marriage but it was beautiful nonetheless. Neither Stiles nor Little Scott wanted to get in though.

“This is fantastic, Jonathan. How did you get the carriage so comfortable?” Duke Christopher asked from the inside. He felt relieved as he stuck his head from the carriage, watching his prize mare attach to the lead rein.

“My wife wanted it to be a bed in a carriage, so the bedmaker just created a bed in carriage form. Both sides are like that. Stiles, son, don’t you want to try it out?” His father asked.

“Yes, Max, come inside with Grandfather. It’s better than my bed at home!” Duke Christopher called.

Both statements fell on deaf ears. Little Scott clung to Stiles as they waited for Allison, Scott and Derek. Scott and Allison were coming with them but they had to wish Derek a goodbye and a farewell without causing attention. Stiles watched as kitchen maids went in and out, obviously serving dinner to the royal family. His foot began to tap as he waited to see who would show first, his family or the Empress. 

Luckily it was the three he wanted to see that popped up minutes later, Scott with the picnic basket and Derek with the clothes. Allison was walking casually between them and she and Scott were laughing about something. Derek clung to the clothes and kept his eyes on Stiles once he entered the courtyard. 

“And then Stiles fell in a cowpie and broke his wrist.” Scott finished as they reached the carriage and slung the basket into the main carriage. 

“That sounds like him.” Allison said. Scott offered her his hand and she gladly took it, stepping into the carriage. “Will you be joining us in the carriage, Scott?”

Scott turned to the Baron, who waved his hand. “We have the Imperial Guard with us and it is certainly big enough. Get in, I know you’re tired. I am too. Genim, it is time to go.”

Stiles stood stock still as he watched Derek finish attaching the luggage to the back of the carriage. “One minute.” He called back and heard his father sigh and get into the carriage. He would have at least a week’s worth of time with his father. A week of sighing and swearing and laughing. No more with Derek.

Derek turned back and as soon as he was in range, Little Scott flung himself at Derek. “Papa! We have to leave.” He said, his voice high and loud.

“I know, sweetheart, but you’re going home. No witches at home, are there?” Derek said, bouncing Scott up and down. 

“But there are no Papa’s at home!” Scott sobbed into Derek’s shirt. 

Derek looked up and Stiles walked to him and embraced the both of them. Derek clung terribly. “You have your Dada though. And your Grandada and your Grandfather and your mother. You’ll be fine, Scott.”

“But whatdda about you, Papa? Will you?” Scott sniffled.

Before he could answer, a bang came from the kitchen area. Derek stilled. “It’s my mother.” Stiles’ eyes widened and he pulled at Scott, both Stiles and Derek walking towards the carriage.

“Come on, Scott, time to leave.”

Scott just sobbed louder. “Don’t want to leave Papa. He’s gonna be alone.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHO’S CHILD IS DEREK HOLDING?” The Empress screamed down the hall. 

Scott stilled. “The witch. She’s coming.”

Stiles got into the carriage and held his arms out. “Yes, Scott, and we’ve got to go, baby.” Scott looked and Derek, his face shaking. “Papa can handle her.” Little Scott let himself get pulled into the carriage. 

“Bye, Papa. I love you.” Little Scott said.

“I love you too. The both of you.” Derek affirmed as he kissed Little Scott’s hand. “Forever.” He let go as the carriage took off. 

As the Empress pulled into the courtyard, all she saw was a miniature of her son waving goodbye and blowing kisses at her grown son in the lap of a man that she had once called a whore. The screech she let out was ungodly. “WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”


	8. In The Mud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finally tells his mother how he really feels, and asks her for something that she doesn't want to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this took forever and is so short. It has become so depressing to me so I wrote a short one-off (it's on my profile, unsure how to link right now) and then that got me distracted along with other people.
> 
> Only two chapters left! They should be a little longer than this one. Let me know if you like it.
> 
> Love and light!

It wasn’t until Derek heard the squelch of mud coming from his mother’s stable boots stop next to him that Derek dared to look at her. He was already blazing with anger inside but being unable to control his outward self was unacceptable. 

He hadn’t seen his mother in a while, he thought as he looked at her face; the prominence of her brow, the tilt of her chin. Derek remembered her visiting early on into his illness, but she was the Empress and had things to attend to. The Empress also led the Church, so the whole season of Lent and then planning the Easter Ball was always a tough time. However, Derek thought, if your only son was deathly ill, why would you pursue things that have nothing to do with him getting better? It seemed like no one really took his illness seriously.

“Mother.” Derek acknowledged, bending down a bit in a mock-bow. The dirt would spread if he bent any further.

“My son, who was that child leaning out the window?” His mother inquired, her eyes glued to a trail of carriage markings, the carriage itself long gone.

“I think you know who he is, Mother. You need not play stupid for me, though you think I am.” Derek said bitterly.

“Derek!” His mother screamed. “How incredibly rude. Being ill does not excuse rudeness.”

“Taking away the love of my life does though.” Derek turned fully then, his back towards the path and he faced the house. Laura was standing towards the back of the kitchens, still shaking a little, and Cora was halfway between the building and where Derek and their mother stood. “Five years ago you ripped the man I fell in love with away from me because you disapproved of him. I was in such shock, such disbelief and I trusted you,” Derek’s voice cracked, “I trusted you so much that I let him go. Instead of just letting him back home you injured him, Mother. You almost killed him and from what I understand you were planning on it. Planning on killing an innocent boy and the child within him.”

Derek’s mother looked at him like he had grown a second head. “What do you mean? He was not pregnant in this castle. I would have known, Derek. I am the Empress, I am an Alpha, I can smell and hear and see just as well as you can.”

“And you were so blind in your unneeded hatred that why would you look for it? If he had been pregnant, which he was, then you would have had to at least accept him into our family for a little while. You were looking for the quickest and harshest way to punish him, to punish me really, for not following your commands. I was going to marry Erica whether I liked it or not, but here we are and she is married to someone who loves her because her parents understood. If Papa was still around, he would have understood too.”

Cora grabbed his arm. “Derek, do not prod her.”

Derek snorted, looking at Cora. “She may the Empress but she is still a person. A person who hardened their heart after Papa died. Laura is obviously your favorite and the one you talked to about this nonsense when it was happening. How could your second child fall in love? He was just the one who worked as a knight and horsed around, only good enough for strawberry negotiations and getting married to some person I had never even met.”

“That was years ago and it was a mistake.” Cora sighed and watched as Deaton entered the courtyard and brushed by Laura. “Derek, we have to go back inside. People will see and rumors will start. Laura’s visit didn’t cause anything and if we can just keep the stories low, I doubt anything bad will happen.”

“Nothing bad will happen? It already has.” Derek stared at the carriage marks that littered the ground. “My whole life is gone.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic, Derek? The knights will be back soon.” Deaton said from behind the Empress. “You shouldn’t even be outside, I asked you to come out, say goodbye and then come back in. It may be April but you could still catch a cold.”

Cora pulled on Derek’s sleeve. “C’mon, Derek.”

“Child.” Came out of the Empress’ mouth. “That – that boy you picked up from the Grove gave you a child? That is impossible. Deaton would have told me.” The Empress looked at Deaton, who then looked at the ground.

“When you were first speaking to Laura about Genim, you said there was no way that he could have a child. When I asked what you would do with the child, you said if it was too late to terminate the pregnancy, you would just make him have it and give it to the Reyes girl. I – I only found out when you pushed him over and I did tell you after my examination that it would take a while for him to heal. I didn’t specify.” Deaton looked at the sky. “The fact he didn’t lose the child when he was pushed down in the dirt and left to bleed was a miracle. I figure you would never find out after he escaped. That child was his everything in captivity. Probably the only reason either of them are alive is because I told Genim about the child.”

“And he is still on my land so I will just call him back. He can be raised here and Derek, you can marry Genim again, I suppose.” The Empress looked both angry and sad, her lips pursed together.

Deaton sighed, “The treaty which we signed with them allowing Genim to come back to the Empire as a healer specified that once they got here we held no claim over the father or the child. Genim will most likely never return to the Empire once his heat finishes, and I doubt he would take a royal command from someone who hit him for falling in love.”

“I pushed him and he fell, I did not strike the child. I was so convinced he was just here to keep the prices of the Grove’s fruit high. Derek had never expressed an interest in anyone before and so a child, barely ripe, being plucked by my son, who could have anyone? That’s ridiculous.” Derek snorted. “It is, Derek. You have to see what it looks like.”

“I have spent the past four years trying to see your side, Empress, and I have seen nothing but jealousy and fear. Fear that the child you didn’t guide through life would be smart and kind. Would reproduce and put his offspring before Laura’s on our family tree. You didn’t pick him so why did I think I could keep him? I should have just run off when I had the chance.”

Three gasps came from the company. Cora pulled on Derek’s sleeve again. “Derek …”

“But I couldn’t leave Cora here, alone, when Laura still continually made fun of her, put her down. She was fifteen and she had her twenty one year old sister calling her names. She didn’t have anyone, Empress, besides me. And now she is nearly twenty and does not need me. So I am going to ask you to do something you should have done five years ago. Disown me.”

“Derek!” Laura cried from the porch. Cora’s knuckles went white. Deaton simply looked away.

The Empress herself paled as well. She had never seen her son so defiant, so angry. She had always felt bad about separating that country child and Derek but you had to seize the moment when it came and to marry Derek off to the Kingdom in the South was ideal. They had no sons and neither of her daughters were interested in their own gender. She had assumed Derek would bounce back, get over it. He might have if that Paige girl hadn’t been a member of the Opposition and had goaded him into talking about his beloved Genim. She had taken care of Paige quite easily – marrying her off to a cousin on the east coast.

Perhaps she had been too harsh on Genim, she thought as she watched her children react to each other. She should have spent more time with Derek and Cora after Max’s death but even today looking her youngest in the face made her heart hurt. She had wanted to bond with Cora terribly and by the time she got herself emotionally able to handle it, Cora was fifteen and letting prisoners out of cells because of the love she had for her brother. Cora would go if Derek did.

“I am sure we could speak to the Duke and make some sort of arraignment ..” Having a grandchild out there that she could not see was unacceptable.

“But that would make you happy. It wouldn’t make anybody else happy, Empress. Certainly not me. I don’t want Stiles and my child here if they’re both going to be miserable. I am miserable, Empress.” Derek’s voice shook.

“Derek, I am your mother, there is no reason to be so formal.” The Empress sighed.

“I am asking you to let me be, Mother.” The word dripped with its own disgust. “I am asking you to let me go. Let me be a foot soldier or a farmer or something other than pretending to okay with a crown on my head. Disown me.” Derek looked his mother in the eye. “Disown me.”


	9. The Fruits of the Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles struggles with his heat and the fact that he is once again a single parent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost at the end! I couldn't make this chapter any longer. I feel like the closer to the end I'm getting, the more succinct I am getting. I also did not want to get graphic about the heat since this story isn't very graphic to begin with. 
> 
> After this I'll be shifting my attention over to Twice Bitten, Thrice Shy, which is on my home page thing. Still awful with this AO3 thing!
> 
>  
> 
> Lots of love to all of you, hope your day is okay (or will get better)!

Stiles did not remember much of the ride home. He was sure Deaton had slipped some calming drought into one of his bags but he did not possess the energy to ask anyone to get it for him. He simply sat in the window seat and clung tight to his boy, who had fallen asleep after a crying jag when they left the castle. The Grove was a beautiful place, though, and he was sure his son would have lots of fun playing with his Mother, his grandfather and his Uncle Scott while Stiles waded through his heat in his childhood home. 

Stiles only snapped out of his reverie when he felt Scott being pulled from his arms. He reached for Scott, trying to stop the fall but was swept into his father’s arms. He was then carried up the stairs to his childhood room.

Nothing had changed, Stiles was happy to report. All of the dreams he had about coming home were accurate. The room still had a lingering scent of vanilla from the candles Stiles stuck in every crevice of the room. There was still a hand drawn map of the Hale Empire in a frame hung up that he had made when he was eleven. He had wanted to be a map maker at that age, explore everywhere and find out all of the secrets and bring them back to his family. He had mostly wanted to find a cure for the illness his mom had and fix her. She had died with a laugh on her breath as he explained how he thought the islands in the southern waters held healing powers. 

His father spoke to him but Stiles understood nothing except the words ‘love you’ and the care and honesty pouring from his father’s voice. His dad was probably going on and on about how strong Stiles was, how he could get through this without too many drugs and without anyone else. How he was a warrior, a soldier, a survivor. Stiles was just glad someone was talking to him in that sweet, kind voice. He fell asleep to the feeling of his father carding his hands through Stiles’ hair.

\---

He woke up to the smell of Scott and porridge. Scott was a beta so it was not hard to eat from what he offered, take sips of the water that was on his bedside table and then wreathe in his misery once Scott left. He couldn’t understand what Scott had been telling him but he had seemed worried for some reason. Stiles could handle this heat; that he was sure of. He had survived an evil Empress, a flight to a foreign country shoeless and alone, an infection on his wound and even childbirth. A rampant heat would not hold him down.

He slipped into delirium mere minutes later.

\---

Melissa came in around noon and fed him a calming drought she had made herself and then check Stiles’ vitals as he wolfed down the plate of fresh fruit she had brought. He had eaten plenty of fruit on the Shore, but nothing as pure as a fresh strawberry, overly red and coated with sugar and a little water on the bottom of the bowl.

“Are you sure you do not want to take a partner?” Melissa asked as Stiles worked on a peach on the tray. 

Stiles shook his head. No one would be Derek and he could not possibly ask Derek himself. Derek was probably in trouble allowing him back into the castle. He was sure he would call for Derek sometime in this heat, but he could not ask the man himself to come. He would just let the heat run its course.

“The drought should allow you an hour with little Scott. He is so anxious to see you.” Stiles beamed and as soon as he said, “yes”, his baby boy came running into the room with a book the size of his own body.

Scott went on for the full hour about the beautiful illustration book Granddada had for him. He went over the pictures with excruciating detail, talking about each one of the stories he had heard and what his favorite parts were. Stiles was heartbroken when his little Scott was removed from the room but his body was already giving way to convulsions of want.

\---

It went on for four days, the convulsions and the tonics and the crying as his son was torn from the room each day. The third day was the worst as he could only remember hearing his baby’s cries from the hall and screaming for him, for Derek, for someone to love him as he loved them. Melissa had to knock him out with a drought to make sure he did not embarrass himself further.

\---

On the fifth day, Stiles woke up and got out of bed. His legs felt like jelly but his body was overly sweaty and he could not handle the amounts of slick and other bodily fluids on him.

He popped his head out of the door and was unsurprised to see Boyd there, reading a book. “Boyd, could you call for a bath, please? One with lavender in it. And a lot of soap.” 

Boyd just nodded. 

His bath had come within minutes of his request, and so he pulled out his favorite storybook from his bookshelf and read until the water started to turn cold. He then quickly washed his body, head to heel, and pulled himself out of the bath. 

His head scraped the top of the vanity mirror that was in his room. He found respectable trousers and a loose cotton shirt and headed downstairs to find something to eat. 

His whole family was sitting around the dining room table and his son, his baby Scott screamed and ran to him when he saw his father in the doorway. “Dada I missed you!” He cried as he hugged his father’s legs. “I hate that you were sick. I don’t want to get that kind of sick, you smelled funny and were sad. You called for Papa but he didn’t come.”

“He wasn’t supposed to come, my love. It was just a night terror.” Stiles scooped Scott up in his arms and kissed his child on the forehead. In fact it was a wet dream but Scott was too young to understand those sort of things. “Hello everyone. Glad to see we all made it through.”

There was a light smattering of laugher as Stiles sat down and proceeded to inhale the toast with raspberry jam in front of him. He ate half a loaf before he realized his face was covered and tried to discreetly wipe it off. Instead he got a napkin full of jam and Scott’s cheers as he proceeded to just rub the rest onto the back of his hands.

“So, Stiles,” Duke Christopher started as Stiles began to tuck in to the bacon in front of him, “I was speaking to your father and we were planning on staying a few more days before we headed back to the Shore. Your father says it is strawberry season and now that we have an open market between us, we surely could use some strawberries at home.”

Stiles’ face lit up. “Really, Duke Christopher? That would be wonderful. Thank you so much.”

Duke Christopher waved it off. “It is so you may have time with your own father uninhibited. Plus, he tells me you always pick the best strawberries. How could I refuse an offer like that? If I had known, we might have tried to plant some in that garden of yours.”

Stiles knew strawberries couldn’t grow on the Shore, but he said not a word. The Grove was the only place that many fruits could grow on this side of the Empire, and the fruit here sprouted early and lasted for a month longer than anywhere else. 

“Plus big Scott and Allison have taken a shining to each other and I figured I should give them some time to see if I’m bringing another Scott home with me.”

Stiles looked at the table and noticed they had both mysteriously left during his jelly escapade. “I guess little Scott’s going to have to start going by Max all of the time then, huh?” Stiles bounced Scott in his lap.

Little Scott let out a groan. “Ugh, Dada, I’m tryna eat.”

“So, Stiles, how does one find the ripest strawberries?” Duke Christopher questioned.

\---

It was a magical three days. Allison and big Scott kept to themselves, but Duke Christopher became a strong ally in Stiles’ quest for the best berries. Once Stiles had taught him the tricks to finding the best strawberries, together they picked so many that his own father sighed. “I knew I shouldn’t give them to you a penny a pound, Christopher.”

The Duke merely grinned. They were equally as successful with raspberries and blueberries. They were a little early in the season for those, however, and their crop was not nearly as plentiful. Stiles wished they were here for apple season, but he could not stay all the way until the fall. The people of the Shore were probably lined up waiting for them to return, Harley keeping them away with a rolling pin.

\---

Saying goodbye was the hardest part. Big Scott had decided to stay until after apple season, when he and the Baron would visit the Shore. He made whispered promises to Allison over their late spring fire the night before they left, promises of love and devotion. Stiles was never ready to leave his own father, especially after being apart for so long, but duty called and he could not shirk it any longer. He also wanted to return home before little Scott started asking more questions about Derek.

They left at sundown, the sunset casting their two carriages in golds and oranges. Stiles felt a solitary tear slide down his face as he waved goodbye, but he knew this time he would see them again. His dad, big Scott, Melissa. He was a prisoner no more.


	10. The Shore Replies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles returns to the Shore and the people who love him. Will he finally have all of the things he loves, though?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end! It took me forever to write simply because I didn't want to finish it. I'm only ten days off when I said I would finish it though! (That sounds bad but ...)
> 
> I want to thank all of the people who have stuck through this WIP, especially glowingme who always makes me feel better about this silly story.
> 
> I am not sorry that this is not dirty. I have had quite a few comments about how they like the fact it is not lewd. A/B/O is one of those fic types that I always go in to read liking the courtship factor and then knowing even if I'm not in the mood to read porn, that it'll be there. I know it's hella long and some people expect porn after a long, LONG story like this but I am 
> 
> \- terrible at it  
> \- have not written it since 2010.
> 
> I appreciate all of the feedback, the kudos and the bookmarks I have gotten. I even read your tags on the bookmarks. In case you haven't clicked on my name, I've moved on to another WIP AU (this time it's a middle/high school one) so just click on my name if you want to read more from me! I'm a lot better at updating that one. If not, hope you enjoyed this one.
> 
> If you want to thank anyone for this piece, thank WednesdaysDaughter (unsure how to link users) because this was for her when she was feeling down one day. All of this started out for you. 
> 
> Lots of love and light in your life to you all. Even when the going gets tough, there is no time to give up. <3

As they inched closer to home, Stiles watched the stars come up. It was getting closer and closer to Beltane, the hardest time of the year for Stiles. The people of the Shore didn’t celebrate it as heavily as the people of the Empire did, but the city still was still brimming with life during that whole week. Stiles had been known to lock himself up in his room at night and stare out at the stars during the Beltane Festival. It was the one time of year he just could not bring himself to be happy. He did enjoy all of the people who came to be healed after the festival though. He had the best stories written down in a notebook in his office. Sometimes after Allison snuck him a cup of wine, the two of them and Harley would break out the notebook and reenact the best stories.

They arrived at the manor shortly before midnight. Both Allison and Scott had fallen asleep, his head in her lap, but Allison sprung to life once the carriage stopped. 

“Finally, we’re home.” She said drowsily. “I can sleep for days on end because I no longer have to play babysitter.” She glanced at Stiles, who flushed.

Besides being in a room with an Alpha that wasn’t his own, Stiles had done everything by the book. Derek was the father of his child and was ill. Stiles had sat in bed with other patients before, attempting to heal them with the comfort of touch. Once he had slept in Duke Christopher’s bed after he had taken a bad tumble. Nothing untoward had happened. Both he and Derek knew that any romantic ideas were idiotic. They both loved each other but what was different this time is that they were no longer young. They knew the effects that any tryst would cause. Stiles shuddered to think of the Empress finding them again, this time both grown and with a child between them.

Stiles scooped Scott up and brought him into the house. Matt was dozing by the doorway but did not wake up as Stiles padded softly through the house and up the stairs to his suite. He put Scott to bed, leaving his little boots by the door. Scott would most likely wake up at dawn and try to go on the morning hunt Duke Christopher would inevitably do, so it was best if his shoes were ready to go.

Stiles then went to his own bedchamber and found it already set up for his pre-bed routine. A washcloth, his homemade soap, steaming water. He washed the remnants of the day off while staring at himself in the little mirror he had acquisitioned. He looked happy but tired. _I’ll sleep in tomorrow, and the day after. I’ll sleep in until I’m over being tired physically and emotionally._

At least, he mused as he settled down to sleep, he wasn’t going to be as tired as Allison. Allison had remained hyper vigilant the whole trip. The time at his father’s house had lessened her tensions but he still felt her presence guarding the door at night, still felt her eyes on him as he picked strawberries and she chatted with Big Scott. Probably why they get along so well. They’re both used to watching me like hawks.

\---

The next morning Stiles wakes up after his usual time. He listens to the feet pounding the floor outside, a laugh from a servant as a sloshing sound is made. These are my people now, he thought as he got up and dressed for the day. These are the people I work for, look after.

After eating breakfast in the kitchen, he went out to his healing hut. There were a few people in a line outside and they all greeted him with smiles and a few groans. One of the oyster farmers had cracked a bone in his foot and wanted to know if he’d be ready to go by season’s beginning. Another came for one of Stiles’ contraceptive droughts. They weren’t foolproof but it seems like whatever they did worked for at least some in the village. He had her sign a contract saying that if she does get pregnant, he is not liable. He tends to a child with a cold, a man with his shoulder out, two women who need calming droughts for their Beltane orders and an apprentice tailor who had a needle stuck through the web of his hand. The last one grossed him out but the apprentice seemed morbidly curious of the black dot that had appeared in the spot the needle had been.

He made a note to tell the tailor to watch him. Tattoos were heavily frowned upon outside male Alphas and royalty. The kid was clearly a Beta with a little bit too much interest in tricking people of his real nature. Or just really obsessed with injuring himself.

Around lunchtime he closed up shop and went back to the manor. After lunch there would be a hearing of grievances which as a member of the household he had to sit through barring an emergency. He crossed his fingers someone would have a baby today – one of the women he’d given a drought to was a midwife and she said she had planned to take some of it after her midday meal. Which left Stiles as the rational choice to deliver the baby. A smile crept on his face as he stabbed at the venison on his plate. Sometimes he wished he was his own child, content to learn from tutors and run around in the gardens all day, eating cherry tomatoes and giggling at butterflies. Scott didn’t have to sit in on people complaining for six hours about how awful their lives were.

\---

There were a fair share of people in the receiving room, Stiles noted as he sat in a chair on the left side of Duke Christopher. The Duke had been gone almost a week and it was getting closer to Beltane but it seems like people were coming in hoards to complain about trivial stuff. One complained about Stiles being gone too long and that they had to go to the second rate healer, leaving their son with a scar on his hand from touching the bacon while it was cooking. Another complained about sea taxes being too high. A third, a distant cousin of the Hales’, aired his grievance about both Duke Christopher and Lady Allison being gone at the same time and leaving no one besides Graeme, the head of the household, in charge. It was a power play Stiles had seen at least five times with the same person. He wanted to be third in line for the dukedom but since Scott was born he was merely fourth.

Duke Christopher had him followed constantly. Stiles thought the man was just a fanatic who would eventually find something or someone else to complain about.

Stiles was slipping into a mid-afternoon nap when Duke Christopher inhaled at the sight of something. Stiles opened one eye lazily to see a dark head of hair kneeled before the Duke. A clear, familiar voice rang out.

“Your Grace, my name is Derek. I have no country to tie my roots to, nor much money to live by. I have come to petition you to join the ranks of your knights. I know you have few and I hope I can live up to your standards.” Derek looked up from his kneeling position. 

The Duke cleared his throat and then turned to Stiles, who sat ramrod straight in his chair. He then turned to his daughter who had a smirk on her face. He knew their answers. “We have few knights after our war with the Empire. Do you have your credentials?” It seems as if no one else in the room recognized Derek.

Derek went for his belt, pulling off a scroll and handing it to the Duke. The Duke looked over it perfunctorily – he already knew what was listed, Derek’s skills, but it had to be a show for everyone else. Derek was a very popular child’s name after he was born, no one would look a second way. 

Duke Christopher took a deep breath in. “Sir, I have let one outside into our community, into our lives and he has changed us only for the better. We welcome you and any friends you may have to The Shore. I am desperately lacking in a trainer for the pages and squires. I would offer you that position and a room in my household indefinitely.”

Derek smiled and Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

\---

Duke Christopher had set Matthew on the task of setting up a room for Derek. It was not at all like his room back at the castle. It was small but had windows facing both the hills to the east and the coastline to the west. The manservant seemed to have no idea of who Derek used to be and instead treated him as a common-born man with a high skill level.

“You will be reporting to His Majesty – His Grace, I’m quite sorry.” Matthew looked flustered. “I grew up in this life, you see, my father serves Duke Christopher, my grandfather his father, and so on and so forth. I am not used to His Grace being, well, a duke.” With that, Matthew straightened up. “However if you are a spy for the Empire you should not mention that to anyone. The Argents have no takeover plans whatsoever. They just want to live a happy, peaceful life.” 

Unlike most servants at the palace Derek recognized the love Matthew had for his ruler, for his country, his sheer dedication to his job. “It is fine. I feel as if I am ten pounds lighter just being here, near the Oceanside.”

Matthew nodded, his eyes drifting towards the window before they drifted back to Derek. “You do look awfully familiar. Have you visited before?”

Derek shook his head. He did not want to put thoughts of being his son’s father into the head of the household’s brain. “I have always wanted to though. The furthest West I was –“ he stopped himself from saying allowed, “I was ever able to travel was the Grove. It was beautiful.”

Matthew smiled. “Then you should like dinner then. His Grace and Stiles brought back buckets of fruits from the Grove and I am sure there will be a tart or pastry of some kind for after the meal. You really must come well qualified if he hired you on the spot like that.” Matt gave him a hard look, then shrugged. “Our last knight master ran off with the cook’s son. Anything will be better than that.” Matthew bowed a little. “I must be off. Check on Lady Allison, on the family. Please feel free to ask anyone around any questions you might have.” He left swiftly.

Derek set the one bag of possessions he had wanted to keep down and then flopped onto the bed. It was not as luxurious as his bed at the palace had been, but it was large and the breeze from the ocean made the trade seem worth it. 

Derek had not been able to leave the palace for a week after his mother had agreed to allow him to leave. It had taken all night for her to see that Derek was simply unhappy at the palace and allowing him to leave was the only option. She had talked about the luminesce of his skin, how his once pale face had come alive with that boy there. How forcing a child to come live away from his known family would cause tension; how the Argents, for all their worth, would be able to find allies like their enemies in the North and fight if they truly wanted to. 

Derek had signed document after document of his life away. Cora had squeezed his shoulders and Laura had refused to speak to him. Laura saw no reason for him to throw away his life – he could be a marriage treaty, it could work out diplomatically. Yet Derek knew Stiles was not going to enter into a contract with the Empire in any shape or form. As ordinary people they could just fall in love in front of everyone and then marry quickly and live how they wanted. After that, everyone had failed to argue with him. Derek wanted normalcy, wanted tranquility, wanted to be useful. He was not doing any of that at home.

\---

Duke Christopher had a closed dinner with only Matthew waiting on them. His grandson was impatient as they waited for Derek to join them. Both Stiles and Allison had told them there was a surprise for him but they had failed to say what it was. 

When Derek entered the dining room it was as if a natural disaster happened. “PAPA!” Scott screamed with joy, falling out of his seat to cling to Derek. “You’re here at home with us.”

Derek kissed his forehead then looked at Stiles, who had warmth and love in his eyes. “I am, darling. I really am here. Here to stay, too. Can you believe that the nasty old witch let me leave and come here to live with you and Dada?” Scott shook his head, eyes wide. “Well she did. I’ll be here as long and you and Dada will have me.”

\---

Scott had refused to move from Derek’s lap the whole entire meal, explaining how to eat crawbabies and telling him stories of Grandfather and Dada picking strawberries like it was a race. Dada won, of course, because he was the best. Derek beamed across the table at Stiles, who blushed up to his hairline and worked on his strawberry tart in relative silence.

It wasn’t until Scott was passed out that Stiles and Derek said a word to one another.

“I cannot believe you left. You left your family, your home, your life for … for me.” Stiles said, staring at a tapestry hung on the wall.

Derek sighed and pulled Stiles’ face closer to his. “I left a family in ruins, one that has no need for me anymore. I left a home that felt just like a set of rooms without you in it. After you came back I realized something, my love. I just gave up my lifestyle. You, Stiles, are my life.” Derek ran his fingers across the plains of Stiles’ cheeks as he processed the statement and then promptly burst into tears. “Are you alright?”

“I am just so glad you’re here. Life … it wasn’t the same without you. I’ve been with you, around you, less time than Scott’s been alive but you mean … you mean so much to me, Derek. Thank you, thank you.”

Derek leaned into Stiles and when he was met with no resistance, laid a kiss upon his lips. “You are welcome. It is what I should have done a long time ago. You shouldn’t have left that palace without me, I should have been in that carriage with you. I should have seen you through your heat, I should have picked berries with you.”

“None of that matters anymore.” Stiles said softly.

“No, none of it matters because after today we shall not be parted without good reason. You are my soulmate, the love of my life, the apple of my eye. I’ll never let you go a heat without me, I’ll raise as many children as you want. I am yours, unerringly and forever.” Derek breathed into Stiles’ skin.

\---

In the morning, a maid that had been sent to tidy Derek’s room said the sheets were not slept in. 

\---

The story continues in a similarly strange fashion. The people of the Shore all have different variations on what happened. Some claimed that Derek was a wandering knight who had fallen in love with Stiles and could not break his contract with the Empress. Once he had fulfilled it, he found Stiles and their son and fell in love all over again. The heir to the Shore was undeniably the stranger’s son.

Others say that Stiles was the one who Empress Talia disliked, the one who escaped the Empire and that Derek was the Prince who was disowned. Many dislike this theory simply because many believe that Prince Derek did not live after his poisoning and his disowning was a cover-up for his death.

Some say that Derek was just truly dumbstruck by Stiles when Stiles had gone to the palace of the Empress and followed him home. Several other knights had slowly followed Derek to the Shore, being accepted simply because they believed in him.

Overall it was more of a scandal that Lady Allison married a Lord Scott of the Grove. The people all worried that when Lady Allison inherited the dukedom and Lord Scott the Grove that the Empire would try to take away the Grove from Scott. He was a good man and the trade between the Shore and the Grove after their wedding had allowed for a merging of cultures and of foods. 

The people had taken longer to warm up to Derek, with his insistence on marrying their dear Stiles as soon as possible (though he waited until Beltane for a strange reason) and then knocking him up within a heat cycle. The last time Stiles had been pregnant he could not stop crying and moping. This time, however, he was happy and joyful. He had begun to take pain and Derek could as well, so the healing powers he had worked on people doubled because of the sheer joy going to visit the healer became. 

 

With such life in their own country the people of the Shore eventually stopped listening to Empire rumors. They found the drama exhausting and they found the happiness of their own little royal family more interesting. They grew to love Knight Master Derek, who gave their sons a chance to shine without worry of their born rank. He helped the Duke and later Allison and his son create a country with strong men and women, strong Alphas, Betas and Omegas.

In the end, the story is happy. There are no wars when both the Duke and Baron abdicate and give their holdings to their children. Scott and Allison never reproduce, simply because Scott had no way of carrying and Allison wasn’t going to let a child slow her down. They simply made Derek and Stiles’ children their heirs. The pair had another two sons and two daughters, and the sound of laughter was always bursting through the house, even at the most inopportune times. 

No one complained. 

**FIN**


End file.
